The Fighter
by loudmist
Summary: 50th Hunger Games. From the reaping to the train ride home; Haymitch Abernathy's account of becoming a victor of District 12. M for violence/gore.
1. Chapter 1: Reaping

_After reading the books, seeing a HG Confession asking to read about him , and watching the infamous youtube short adaptaion of his games , I had enough inspiration to write about my favorite character. _

_Thank you to padfootvfd who beta'd the first chapter for me. _

_Anybody interested in beta-ing the rest, please let me know! _

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**CHAPTER 1 **

Finn was squeezing his hand tightly.

"It's ok Finn," he told his brother, trying to keep his own voice straight.

"I know," Finn said, giving a broken smile.

He felt proud of his brother, but said nothing of it.

"I'll meet you after, ok?" he said as they got in line to check in.

"See you," Finn said quietly after the Peacekeeper pricked his finger and clarified his identity.

"Next!" the Peacekeeper said in a deep and loud voice.

He stepped forward, looking around at all the same solemn faces around him. His left eye twitched as his finger was pricked and drew blood. The handheld beeped and the Peacekeeper nodded, waving his hand to make him move away as he said "Next!" again.

Haymitch shuffled along and found a kid in his class, Wallace, to stand next to. They weren't really friends but they occasionally talked about the Seam where they both lived, compared how many times they had entered for tessera, and what animals that strayed past the broken fence they could easily catch for food.

They stood side by side, giving each other silent company as they waited for the rest of the children and teenagers to file in. Haymitch glanced around the crowd and caught sight of Rose. Her eyes widened when she saw him, and looked down and muttered something to a girl next to her. The other girl looked up and sent a glare his way.

Haymitch had broken up with her after the Quarter Quell announcement, two months ago. District 12 had gathered then, similar to now, to watch it. Haymitch remembered watching President Snow pulling the envelope with a clearly marked 50, and then clearing his throat.

_"On the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district will be required to send twice as many tributes."_

Haymitch blinked, and looked away from Rose.

"All the other guys thank you, actually. We've been waiting for her to leave your stupid ass," Wallace said, and Haymitch looked over. He shrugged.

"Can never be too careful. And it wasn't going anywhere. She's a merchant's kid, yada yada, we're from different worlds…" he drifted off, not even sure if Wallace was buying his lie.

It was true, they were from different parts of the District, but that didn't stop Haymitch from enjoying her laugh, liking the feel of her hand in his, and it didnt hurt that his mom adored her. He was also a little teary when he told her they couldn't see each other anymore. But with the possibility of his name being drawn doubling for the Quell, he didn't want to take the chance of a more dreadful goodbye.

The doors at the Hall of Justice opened, and the elder council came out and took their seats.

Among them was someone he had never seen before at the Reapings. She was in a purple pinstripe suit that showed her feminine curves, but her black hair was in a buzz cut.

"Who is that?" he asked.

"The new appointed mentor for the tributes. Remember, Thor Chadwick kicked the bucket a month ago. He was from the 11th Games, it was about time."

"Oh, yeah," Haymitch said, vaguely remembering the District's last victor.

"Hello and welcome!" Clara Fiore, the escort and host of the Reaping each year, said. Her voice was so whiny it seemed like she was always asking a question.

"Here we go…" Wallace sighed.

"Welcome, and Happy Hunger Games! And, may the odds be ever in your favor!"

"Unless we decide to send you to your death… then not so much," Haymitch muttered. Wallace scoffed and smiled.

"Now, before we start, we have _two _very special videos! Brought all the way from The Capitol, and our first video is starring our own President Snow!" she said. She put her hands forward and started clapping quickly. There was a moment of silence, but then the Peacekeepers started clapping too. All of a sudden, the rest were giving a weak and mandatory applause to the President as he appeared on the screen. It was the same video, announcing the theme of the Games for the Quarter Quell.

Then the "War, Terrible War" video came on, explaining the war, the rebellion and the Capitol creating the Hunger Games. People talked over it, and the Peacekeepers all yelled for silence. They had to yell it a few more times to get them all to quiet.

"Well, this shall prove to be _quite_ a year!" Clara said as the video faded to black and then to the Capitol Seal. "Now, on with the Reaping! And as always, ladies first," Clara said, speaking over the crowd, successfully silencing them.

In a bright white dress with a skirt that bounced, Clara shuffled her heels to the bowl on the right of the stage. She put her hand in and reached to the bottom to pull out one name. She put it in her other hand, and reached back in to pull out another. She shuffled back to the microphone, and opened both papers before clearing her throat.

"Margaret Carto and Maysilee Donner!"

A large male voice shouted "No!" from the far back, where the other citizens could stand to watch the reaping. The girls, on the left side, all silent, moved slowly to make room for the two girls to pass through.

They were of the same height. One had brown hair in short pigtails, the other with long blonde hair braided down her back. The Peacekeepers led them to the stairs. They fumbled and grasped each other's hands as they ascended together. Clara grasped the brown haired girl and pulled them both to the microphone.

"Who is who, dears?" Clara asked.

"I'm Marg- Mar- Mag- Maggie… Carto. Maggie Carto." The brown haired girl was shaking.

"Then you are Maysille Donner!" Clara presented, holding her hand out to the blonde, who nodded. "Now for the boys" Clara said as she shuffled towards the other bowl.

Haymitch's heart was beating rapidly. His left fingers twitched, and he ran the shaking hand through his hair.

The animals he was able to catch for food had their seasons. On the off seasons, he was entering his name at least two times each week.

She drew two names, and went back to the microphone.

"Dylan Triop," Clara said, and Haymitch let out a little of his held in breath. He looked for Finn and found him again. He smiled and nodded, assuring him it was going to be ok – "and Haymitch Abernathy!"

Finn's face distorted into pain and he started to run towards him but the boys around him manages to stop him. In the distance Haymitch heard a female scream.

There was a high-pitched ringing in his ears. He wasn't sure what to make of it. He felt someone touch his shoulder, and he jumped and looked over to see Wallace. He was looking at him with pity. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he shook his head.

"I – I'm so sorry," he said.

Haymitch halted in his breath, and looked around. Everyone was staring at him.

He stumbled forward to the center aisle, where a Peacekeeper instantly grabbed him and led him to the stairs, where the other kid - he couldn't even recall what his name was – was waiting.

They didn't hold hands as they ascended the stairs. The other guy was the one dragged to the microphone first.

"Dylan Triop," he said in a whisper.

"Then you must be Haymitch Abernathy!" Clara said, and Haymitch gave a shrug of his shoulder. He meant to nod, but he wasn't sure his brain was really working at that moment.

Clara spoke again… and he heard faint applause. Then he felt someone grab his arms from behind, and he was being dragged into the Hall of Justice by a Peacekeeper, and then pushed into a small room that was empty except for a desk with a chair and a sofa.

"Holy Shit," he whispered aloud. Good thing his motor skills were back.

He rushed to the window and tried to look outside but the glass was distorted and gave him a smudged and blurred view of dark movement. He sighed, and then sat on the sofa. He looked down at the material he was sitting on, a nice intricate design. He wondered how much this sofa had cost to even be put here.

He let out a yell and punched the cushions next to him.

His damned name, in that bowl more than sixty times.

He yelled out again and delivered two more punches to the sofa.

He was going to die soon.

He screamed and punched the cushion two more times before he heard the door swing open. He brought his hands up as he looked to see who it was.

A flash of brown curly hair came towards him and he felt his brother's arms wrap tight around him. He heard the soft voice of his mother cry out his name. She came and sat next to him as the Peacekeeper left.

Haymitch pulled Finn back and his younger brother sat between them and curled into his side. His mother reached forward and settled a hand on Haymitch's shoulder.

He turned to look at her, her matching grey eyes tearing up, and flowing freely down her face. For once it wasn't dirty with the sut from the mines. She'd washed up for the reaping, and was wearing a dress rather than her usual work jumpsuit. A week after his father died, she'd donned his uniform and took his shifts, keeping her head high even though people talked her down, how it was a disgrace that a woman was in the mines.

He couldnt say anything.

Her husband was killed in a pub fight gone wrong, and now she was going to lose her first son in the Games.

"Haymitch," she said, and squeezed his shoulder, "I love you, so much. I know you'll be great, just come on home, okay?"

He brought a hand and put it over hers, squeezing it, smiling back.

"I love you too mom," he said. More tears appeared and she let out a sob. "Finn," he said, and his brother hugged him tightly. "Stay in shape. Keep running like we used to every week. Work on catching more animals, but don't make trouble."

At that, a Peacekeeper swung the door open, barging in. Haymitch stood up while still hugging his brother.

His mother cried harder. Finn looked like he was going to cry, but he could tell he was trying not to, for him. Haymitch smiled, trying to be comforting, and Finn smiled back.

Haymitch only watched as the Peacekeeper took his family away.

The door closed, and he was alone again.

Nobody else came to visit him. Not even Wallace. He even had a sliver of hope that Rose would come to see him, so he could have one last goodbye, but she didn't come. And in a way he understood.

He was going to be murdered for game soon. There really wasn't that much left to say.


	2. Chapter 2: To The Capitol

_thank you for the views, please take few seconds to leave a review, tell me something you liked or didn't like! _

_thank you for the follow, Mads515, it drove me to post this next chapter! _

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**CHAPTER 2:**

"Come on, dears! I know it's a lot, but the train is absolutely marvelous!" Clara Fiore edged them all on board, leaving the loud crowd of District 12 citizens behind as the doors closed behind them and made a suction sound.

"Despite the consequences, at least this you will have access to the great luxuries of The Capitol and all it has to offer!" Clara said as they all entered the train's main cart.

There was a table full of colored treats and pastries in the middle, a sitting area in the front with two sofas and several armchairs, and more seating on the other side of the tables. Everything was in either a rich purple or blue color, and the lights all had crystal around them so they shined brightly.

The four of them sat down on the arm chairs, more-so Clara somewhat pushed them to sit down.

"The train will be departing within 10 minutes. Your mentor was travelling all day; she's resting now, so you will meet her in a few hours. Enjoy the train and all it has to offer! There are multiple sleeping carts, just don't fight about who gets which cart!" she said and let out a small laugh.

It was met with silence.

"Well. I think I'll leave you four to get acquainted, then. I'll be in the bar cart if you need me," Clara said and disappeared through another door.

They all looked at one another, not meeting each other's eyes. Haymitch was finally facing the first part of his competition.

He stood up and walked over to the drink cart, glancing around at all of the colored liquids. He chose a clear brown one that smelled like maple, poured himself a generous glass, and took a big gulp. It tasted sour, and burned his mouth and throat. He squeezed his eyes tight and swallowed back a cough and took a deep breath.

He heard a colorful laugh. He looked over to see the blonde, whose hair wasn't in a braid anymore, smiling as she lougned on her chair.

"Scotch isn't for everybody," she said.

Haymitch frowned for a second, hating to be embarrassed. He opened the lid of a silver jar, and found it full of ice. He put a small handful in his glass with the 'Scotch' and returned to his seat. He took another drink, this time making it a small sip. It still burned but the ice made it a little easier. Haymitch kept his face straight.

"Well I guess I'm not everybody," he said, meeting the girl's bright green eyes.

She smirked.

"Try saying that _without_ straining your voice."

"Maysil, is it?" he asked, knowing full well her name. He usually saw her when he passed the marketplace every day on his way home from school. Her parents worked in the small sweets shop. In fact she was the one who gave a half piece of chocolate to his crying brother Finn after he had broken his arm.

Her smile faltered, but she shook her head.

"Maysilee."

"Haymitch," he replied.

"I know," she shot back.

He broke her gaze and turned to the boy next to him. He was big in size, but the fear on his face made him seem younger, and his long and unkempt black hair didn't help him seem serious enough either.

"Dylan, right?"

He only nodded.

The three looked at the brown haired girl.

"Call me Maggie, never Margaret."

There was a minute of silence. Maggie was glancing at each of them, Dylan was looking at his hands in his lap, and Maysilee and Haymitch were intermittently looking at each other - Maysilee glaring, Haymitch staring.

"Well, this is going to be fun," Haymitch said as he stood up yet again, this time intent to fill his mouth with something other than talking. Food sounded good.

It seemed as if a day had passed in the cart while they all sat around and said nothing. The girls had silently come close and Maggie was now re-braiding Maysilee's hair.

The train cart door opened and the tall woman from the Reaping walked through with Clara tagging along, still in her white dress. The other woman had gotten rid of her pinstripe jacket, showing her vest over a peach colored shirt, the sleeves rolled up.

"Sit," she said to the room. Dylan and Haymitch walked over from the train windows and sat back down.

The woman came up to them, her hands in her pockets.

"My name is Cassie and I'm your mentor for this year, for all four of you."

She met the gaze of each of them, looking at Haymitch last. She had dark eyes. Serious and intent.

"I'm going to give it to you straight and simple: this year, your chance of dying sooner is greater. That is, if you're weak. If you want to live, if you can fight, then you lower that chance. Now I may not be from your district, but truthfully, in the arena, it doesn't mean as much as everybody makes it out to be. And this time… it could be the same. But the Careers, you never-"

"Cassie, that is not necessary," Clara interrupted sharply. "There is no need to-"

"Fine, fine," she said, waving a hand to shut her up. Clara sighed, and turned to make a small plate of treats for herself, keeping the plate an arm's length away. Cassie continued.

"I will be mentoring you both individually _and_ as a group."

"Wait, you can't make-" Haymitch started.

"I am not going to be-" Maysilee also started but Cassie cut them both off.

"No arguments. It will be happening. I'm not going to sugarcoat anything, guys. I'm not here to comfort you, I'm here to give you a chance to be a survivor in the arena.

We'll be getting to The Capitol soon. At the station there will be citizens there to greet you. Don't cower, frown, or show that you're scared. Your first impression in this next week is extremely important. You need sponsors when you get to the arena. Either way, you want to be remembered, liked, and recognized. And since you aren't Career's, it will take a lot more effort."

"Who are the Careers?" Dylan asked in a low voice, almost a whisper.

"The tributes from the first two districts. They go to school to train for The Games and then volunteer at the reapings," Maysilee said.

"And this year instead of four of them, there will be eight," Haymitch added.

Cassie nodded, looking solemn.

"You want to stay away from them, really at all costs. As I was going to say before Clara cried out, is that you don't want to become their allies in the Arena. It won't be an alliance, they will dispose of you when they don't need you anymore, and it's never with a fair fight.

After the station, you will all be lead to the Tribute Center, where you four will undergo a hygienic treatment and made pretty for your designers. There is one for the boys, and one for the girls. Then it's the Parade, a night of rest, and the rest is training. After the scoring, there are the interviews, and then The Games."

There was a beat of silence, and Haymitch needed to break it.

"We're not going to be naked for the Parade, are we?" he asked, recalling that last year the District 12 Tributes were slathered in black body paint and little else to represent coal. That got the rest laughing.

"If you guys complain enough, it might be changed, after all your numbers are greater this time," Cassie said.

After that, talking between them seemed to go smoother and the tension slowly subsided. Somehow they all got to talking about Disctrict 12.

Dylan and Maysilee were both from merchant families. Dylan's parents sold fabrics and yarn in the Marketplace, and Maysilee's mother owned a candy and sweets shop. Maggie and Haymitch talked about the Seam. Maggie only had her father, who was a miner. Haymitch recollected wrestling down a wild pig that had ventured past the hole in the fence, only after it had tricked him into slipping into a pool of mud.

Soon enough, the train was pulling to a stop, and they all went to the windows to watch the cheering people. Maysilee went up next to Haymitch as he watched the colorful crowd.

"Their hats all look like genetalia," Maysilee said as she smiled and gave a short wave. A few people jumped up and down and waved back as Haymitch threw his head back in laughter.

"I thought I knew you could smile. Only with your brother though, it seems."

Haymitch took a deep breath in and his laugh stopped. He looked down into her green eyes, confused.

He had noticed her, it was hard not to with that bright hair and her excitement at school for every subject. But the thought of her noticing him, a scrawny and dirty kid from the Seam… he didn't know what to make of it.

She raised an eyebrow, and Haymitch blinked.

"Well, I've found something to laugh at," he said, nodding his head to the crowd.

Maysilee smiled and lingered for a second, still looking at him. Then her smile faltered as she turned and left, gathering with Cassie and Clara to exit the train.

The rest of them followed and all got off the train together to a loud cheering crowd. The Peacekeepers made a small barrier to either keep the crowd away from them, or to prevent one of them running away.

They were shuffled into a large elevator. After few seconds of tense silence, the doors opened and Cassie turned around, gave a nod as a goodbye and got off. The doors closed again.

"Off to meet the cleaners, then the designers!" Clara said as she pressed another button. The doors opened to a bustling room with white walls and glossy black tiles.

"There you are!"

Haymitch looked over and smiled, trying not to laugh. Two women were rushing towards them, wearing brightly colored dresses, and matching purple ringlets for hair.

The one in the pink dress grabbed Dylan and Haymitch and rushed them to a different room.

"We'll need a double deep clean before we present you to Mackie. Prepare yourselves, boys."


	3. Chapter 3: Training

**CHAPTER 3**

"And lastly, there is absolutely no fighting with the other tributes. Enough of that will happen _inside_ the arena. Now off you go," the head trainer, Marko, said.

There was a beat of silence before all forty eight tributes started making their ways to specific stations, all quiet.

The training center had various weapons, weights, obstacle courses, and survival skill stations; some even had real trees, he saw paintbrushes at another one, and one just had a bunch of pieces of rope and wire.

As per Cassie's instructions, Haymitch ignored the numbers that were pinned to each of their backs, noting their District - all except the numbers of 1 and 2, whom Haymitch had paid attention to once they all got to the enormous training gymnasium.

Oren, Stone, Lyla, and Remy were from District 1. Slater, Argo, Maya, and Alecia from 2. All were tall, toned in muscle, and were sending intimidating glares to all the other tributes as they stuck together.

Haymitch decided to go to the edible plants station first. There were all the members from District 3 there, but he also ran into Maysilee, who didn't look happy to see him.

The trainer put them together by district, and Maysliee sighed. Then they both continued to bicker at each other as they tried to learn how to tell if a plant was poisonous or not.

"Of course this thing is poisonous, look at the spiked leaves!" Maysilee said as she held a branch with light purple berries in her hand, brandishing it front of his face.

"But mint has spiked leaves! And I know that your parent's shop has minted chocolates, are you saying they are poisonous too?"

Her eyebrow twitched.

"This is poisonous, and I know it," she said through clenched teeth.

"Then you just killed me," Haymitch said and without another thought, grabbed at a berry and tossed it into his mouth. Maysilee let out a gasp as she grabbed his face and pushed his cheeks together, trying to get him to spit it out.

He kept her bright green gaze as he finished chewing the berry that tasted too sweet, and swallowed. He grinned.

Maysilee stared for a few second more before she drew her hands back, and then slapped both his cheeks at the same time.

"What the-"

"You're supposed to die in the _arena_, stupid!" she gave him a shove, but he didn't even budge.

"I just proved to you that they're not poisonous, May!"

She faltered in her anger and looked at him in surprise.

"What did you just call me?" she asked.

"Uh," Haymitch looked down. He hadn't meant to nickname her name. It had come naturally to him; like with Finn and Finnick. "Nothing, I just forg-"

"No… my- never mind," she said, looking down, finally removing her hands.

There was another second of silence until he reached forward and grabbed the branch from Maysilee. He took another berry and popped it into his mouth.

"I just hope there are more of these in the arena. I might just eat myself to death," he said, wanting to ease the silence.

It worked. She laughed.

"I can see that. You getting bloat or something," she said, smirking. He smiled.

"I'd probably be the first to die of that in the Games. I'll be talked about for ages. Careful kids, don't come hungry to the Hunger Games!" he mimicked in his best Clara voice.

She let out a giggle. They got looks from the other tributes that were picking through some ivy. Haymitch glared at them, and they looked away.

"Sorry," he whispered to May, now feeling that they were being listened to.

"It's not you. I just need to keep my laughter under control. God forbid I show mirth around here, right?"

Haymitch nodded. He looked to his left, and saw the two blonde females from District 1 looking at them with dangerous grins.

He looked back to Maysilee, who had also masked her smiling face to a general scowl.

They came to a silent understanding and Haymitch set down the branch and gave her a nod.

"See you around," she said softly as he left, putting needed distance between them.

He was doing the worst thing he could: get attached. But he felt that he might have already had something for Maysilee, the same lightheadedness he got with Rose.

He gave a charming smile to the girls from District 1 who only shook their heads as he walked by.

He went over to the knives that were displayed on a table, near some mannequins that had various target points on their bodies. He was skilled with a knife, he was the one who skinned the animal whenever he was able to catch one, but the only knife they had was at least two times smaller in size than the one he held in his hand. One side had a razor sharp blade; the other was ragged with sharp points, nothing he had ever seen before.

"Next!" he heard a deep voice yell out. He looked over to the trainer dressed in grey, looking at him.

"What?" he asked, not sure what was going on.

"You need three knives for this exercise, pick two more," he said, frowning. He heard a scoff behind him, and saw a pack of three guys smiling at him. Haymitch looked back down at the table with various knives, and he chose the smaller ones, around half a foot or more.

"Hit the mannequins as they come forward," the trainer said, and stepped back.

He heard a few more laughs behind him, but ignored them as he stepped forward onto the small platform that let out a bell sound as it felt his weight. Then he heard a small whirr of sound and looked up to see the mannequin on the right come towards him.

He threw one knife by the handle. It flew and hit the mannequin's lower leg, barely sticking. The next one to move was in the center, and he threw the next knife gingerly by the blade. This time it hit the stomach. The next one, on the left, got a knife near the middle of the chest. There was a 'ding!' and the mannequins moved back.

"Good! You're getting the hang of it, 12. Practice more, you'll get better these next few days," the trainer said.

Haymitch nodded and muttered a thank you as he left to head to the spears, where the trainer was just standing around doing nothing.

"What do I need to know?" Haymitch asked as he approached.

The trainer looked up from cracking his knuckles and smiled at his new trainee.

"You need to know about balance, and always be sure to follow through," he said as he grabbed two spears and brought them both to the platform, stopping just in front of it.

"The balance point is where you hold it; this is where you can hold the spear easily without it tipping forward and backwards easily. Face the target slightly sideways, foot forward opposite throwing hand, bend knees slightly, and throw," he said, showing each step with a second of a pause in between. He re-did the throw motion and let go of the spear, it hitting the furthest mannequin in the middle of the target.

"Up you go," the trainer said.

Haymitch sighed and walked up to the platform; it gave a similar ding as it felt his weight, and the mannequins lit up in a red glow and moved forward. He did as the trainer did; putting his left foot forward as he turned to the right and took a deep breath as he held the spear in balance. He then pitched his arm forward, letting it go at the last second. It hit the nearest mannequin on the target, but at one of the outer rings.

"Good follow through, now work on aim. Maybe bend your knees more," the trainer said.

"What's your name?" Haymitch asked, staying on the platform as the mannequins continued to move in front of them.

"Um, it's Leo."

"Well Leo, I think we might be spending a lot of time training together. I'm Haymitch."

The trainer smiled, and they shook hands.

"Here, I'll show you how to craft one with or without a stone or blade," Leo said, and Haymitch followed, smiling, finally feeling a little bit of confidence.


	4. Chapter 4: Twelfth Floor

**CHAPTER 4 - Twelfth Floor**

That night as they ate dinner in the 12th Floor Penthouse at the Tribute Center, Cassie was evaluating their first day of training. Mackie, Clara, and Eva, the girls' designer, were drinking and talking at the other end of the table.

"Dylan, you are the dark horse in this group! Who knew you were so skilled in hand to hand? You bruised two of the trainers today, keep it up."

"My friends and I fought a lot," he mumbled.

"Tone up on weights everyday now, and start with weapons soon."

Dylan nodded.

"Maggie, you are quite the survivalist. You did very well at most of the stations. Tomorrow work on the ones that you didn't get to: camouflage, building shelter, etc, and work more on the knots. You did well, but learn to set more traps, it could help you get food, not just tributes. Start with physical training next, and move to weapons. You might want to try the bow and arrow, or knives."

"What about swords?"

Cassie shrugged. "You can try, but to become good with a sword takes a lot of training, more than what we have for time. But if you prove good with it, the trainers might push you to try it more. Do it only if you aren't as good in the bow and arrow, or with knives, ok?"

Maggie nodded.

"Now Maysilee, you did the obstacle course well, and did ok with the edible plants," she gave a look to Haymitch, who looked at Maysilee, who looked away. "But work with weapons now. Speed doesn't account for everything, but it will help you."

Maysilee gave a nod, and picked at her food before eating a small bite or two of the chicken on her plate.

"Haymitch…" Cassie said, and he looked up.

"Work on weights, in fact, you and Dylan do weights together from now on, ok? Actually, Maggie and Maysilee, you both practice on bows and arrows together as well."

Haymitch looked over to Dylan, who only shrugged. Maggie and Maysilee nodded at each other.

"And keep it up with the spear work, but practice more with knives."

Haymitch nodded. It was the same tact the Careers took, and he noticed the other tributes keep their distance because of it.

"Cassie, can I ask you something?" Haymitch put his fork down to take a sip of his water. It tasked like crystals to him, it was that clear and crisp, nothing like the flaky and dirty water back home.

"Shoot," she said, taking a sip of a green drink.

"What weapon did you train with, and what did you end up actually using?" he asked.

Cassie swallowed her drink and her eyebrow furrowed.

"W- Well, in training… I _acted_ less than par around the other tributes, but during individual training and the scoring, I was unstoppable with a sword."

She paused, took another sip of her drink, and continued.

"In the Arena… I could only get my hands on two axes, different in size. It took me some practice, but I got used to them easily."

Haymitch wanted to ask more. How did she win? Did she have to kill the boy from her district? He saw the look of dread on Cassie's face, and decided not to say anything.

She finished her green drink, tipping the glass all the way back, and stood up, shaking out her pink leather jacket.

"I'm off to sleep. Good luck in training tomorrow, see you kids later."

She then walked away and disappeared down the hall. They heard the door of her room

"Good job, Haymitch. Now none of us can get in our questions!" Maysilee said, breaking the silence.

"Like what, did she pout her lips during the interviews?"

"No, more like how did she win? Did she fight or flee at the Cornucopia? Did she-"

"Have to deal with her period?" he asked, slightly annoyed. He had the same questions as she did. If she wasn't so difficult about it, they could've asked more questions instead of letting their mentor walk away.

Maysilee let out a soft yell of anger and she slapped Haymitch, hard. It actually threw his head a little.

There was a couple of moments of silence, and Haymitch turned his head to look back at her grimly, but surprised to see her with a shocked look on her face.

"Ow," he said slowly, slightly grinning. He couldn't help it; nobody had reacted like that to his rude humor. Or his rudeness overall.

"Hey! None of that here!" Clara shrieked. Maysillee glared at Haymitch, who could only stare back in surprise. "I think that is enough for the lot of you tonight!" Clara said in a shrill voice as she stood up. "Off to sleep, all of you!"

They all sat there for a second.

"Go!" she shrieked, and pointed to the hall where their bedrooms were.

They each had to share, since usually it was only two tributes, but they had room dividers, and two of everything, even extra bathroom facilities.

"Idiot," Maysilee muttered under her breath as she walked past Haymitch.

"Psycho," he whispered back, walking only a few steps behind her. She slammed the door behind her and Maggie.

Haymitch only shook his head, smiling as he went to get ready for bed.

His eyes shot open, having enough of spending more effort to keep them closed.

He sighed, and threw off the covers as he stumbled to the bathroom to splash warm water on his face. He ignored the mirror as he left, and crept out the bedroom, hoping there were still some treats left on the table. Or maybe a drink that could make him sleepy.

He stopped short of the entrance to the main room when he saw Maysilee curled up on the sofa, looking at a scene of a field clearing in a forest on the wall; one of the many scenic options each one wall in each room had.

He remembered stumbling upon it, setting it to the Capitol scene accidentally. He had enjoyed watching a wreck of a fashion show before he found the right button to change it. He liked the desert scene himself.

He must have made some noise, because Maysillee turned around, and half smiled.

"Hi," she said with a little sigh.

"Hey," he said, taking a step or two forward, the floor cold on his bare feet. He looked at the sofa, and looked at her. She nodded, and he sat down on the sofa, keeping an arm's length away.

She turned her head around, still facing the wall with the forest scene.

"It reminds me of home. There aren't any trees in the Capitol. I didn't know I would miss them so much," she said, meeting his gaze.

He blinked, and then turned to look at the scene as well. The tall grass in the clearing was waving in the breeze, and there were even some wildflowers. The field was small and was basking in rays of the full moon that were peeking from pine trees all around.

"I didn't just notice till now. I can't believe they don't have trees. Probably have only this for reference," he said, tilting his head at the moving picture.

They sat for a minute in silence before she spoke.

"Sorry about earlier."

He looked over and met her gaze, which really seemed apologetic. Her brow was slightly furrowed.

"No, its ok. You're still a psycho, but its ok," he said.

She laughed, and shook her head.

"It'll do me well in the arena."

Haymitch only nodded in agreement, putting them in silence again.

He broke it this time.

"Why did you act so weird when I nicknamed you May?" he asked. He couldn't help it, it was still bugging him, the way she seemed hurt by it.

She looked away, back to the forest scene.

"My… younger sister used to call me that."

"But I thought it was just you and Miriam…" he said, slowly.

Her eyes shot into slits, glaring.

"You will never say that name again as long as I live, do you understand?"

He wasn't surprised by her sudden change in mood, and he dreaded that he had brought it on. Miriam was Maysilee's twin. Even during school, he noticed they had a connection, something more than just looking alike. Twins always had a more special connection. He couldn't imagine having that broken so abruptly, and by the Games no less.

"Maysilee, I'm so sorry," he said, and reached forward, but she shook her head. He retracted his hand.

"My younger sister Claire died when we were seven years old."

He stayed silent for a while, clueless on what to say.

"You've probably heard this enough times – from me, and from others, but so sorry…" he said softly. He wanted to look into her eyes to let her know he meant it, but she stayed looking down at her hands.

"I… it's ok. I mean it still happened when we were young, right? Not when I was older. I probably wouldn't have been able to handle it then. Now," she looked up, and he kept her gaze.

"Now she's just…" her eyes became a little teary, "And then there's Mir-Mir…" she faltered and she looked away again, and Haymitch had an unfamiliar urge to hug her.

"Nevermind. How did you hunt? You usually had some animal during the spring and summer seasons…" she asked, turning her whole body towards him, curling her knees under her, resting her hands in her lap. She seemed comfortable without the subject on her.

He raised an eyebrow.

"It's just that… I've never seen you carrying around a weapon or anything…" she cast off, expecting him to answer.

"I did it with my hands," he started, giving her what she wanted, instead of him asking more questions. "Sometimes I would set a small trap with vines, but at times when the Peacekeeprs multiplied, I didn't want to get caught with a knife, so I would jump on them and snap their neck as quickly as possible."

"Then you're set for the Games, aren't you?" she said, looking challenging.

"Probably not. Human necks are stronger," he said, keeping her gaze, challenging back.

"And how do you know this?" she asked, the corner of her mouth tilting up.

He reached forward quickly and wrapped his hands lightly around her neck. She jumped slightly but didn't pull back. He moved his thumb over her windpipe, his fingers along her neck and spine. His other hand was along her jaw.

"I've tried before, and it seems that I can't turn the head quickly or strongly enough to snap the spine," he lied with a soft voice, moving forward a little.

Her pulse under his finger quickened.

He knew it was easy, he could feel it now - the bones were just as vulnerable in humans as in animals. He was just finding an excuse to touch her.

"Well… then you might be in trouble…" she whispered.

"Oh," he said, smiling a little as they shared air and continued to stare at each other, "I definitely am."

There was a beat of silence before someone else cleared their throat. Haymitch turned his head, only removing one of his hands as he looked to see who it was.

Dylan stood there, looking at them quizzically.

"Hey…" he said croakily, still groggy from sleep, but obviously noticing what was happening.

"Well," Haymitch said, he looked back at Maysilee who weakly smiled at him as she took his hand and pulled it away from her neck.

"I'm going to try to sleep again. Goodnight," he said to her. She nodded, keeping his gaze for only a few seconds.

He pulled his hand from hers, and stood up. He walked past Dylan, mumbling goodnight.

He stayed awake and waited for Dylan to come back. He pretended to be asleep when he said his name questioningly.

Dylan sighed, but still spoke.

"Whatever you're doing, you should stop."

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	5. Chapter 5: Individual Scoring

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Reviews are like crack for a writer, so please review away! (disclaimer: I am not a crack addict)

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**CHAPTER 5**

The training was over. It was time for the individual scoring.

As being the last Disctrict, they all were the last to go. Currently Dylan was in the gymnasium where the Gamemakers and other Capitol members were watching him.

Soon it would be his turn.

He was bouncing his knee, and couldn't help it. If he got a low score, nobody would sponsor him, Cassie had told them. The score would bump the odds of survival up in the Tribute Statistic Tables, and people sponsored those who had the better odds.

Suddenly a hand flew and grasped his knee very tightly, almost painfully. He stopped moving, and looked at Maysilee who was next to him.

"Please stop that, its driving me crazy," Maysilee interrupted his thoughts, her fingers digging deep into his skin.

Maggie was against the wall opposite them, doing weird stretches.

"You're already crazy though," Haymitch said smiling. "More than the rest of us…"

"Yes, we've established that," Maysilee said smiling back, "but if you keep doing that…" she squeezed his leg, "I might act on it again. And you got hurt last time."

"Try me again," he said, reaching down and moving her hand back to her own lap instead of his. He lingered, keeping her hand in his.

She grabbed onto his wrist with her other hand, to disengage their fingers, but it didn't happen. She looked menacing, and her and her mouth opened to blast him when the doors to the gymnasium swung open.

Dylan walked through, smiling.

"Have fun," he said as he left down the hall, a Peacekeeper in step behind him.

Haymitch sighed and stood up, still holding onto Maysilee's hand.

"Show them what you got," Maysilee said, nodding at him. He could've sworn she squeezed her hand. He nodded back and walked away, lingering slightly before he had to let go of her.

Once he entered the doors, he cracked his neck from side to side, and walked to the middle.

Various stations had been set up for the tributes to choose from. Some survivalist and some combat.

He looked up to the Gamemakers, none of them paying attention. They were eating and seemed heavily drunk. He sighed and spoke.

"Haymitch Abernathy. District 12," he said loudly. One of the men turned, and nodded.

"Go on, boy," he said, the cup in his hand shaking, threatening to spill over his red suit. He was probably wasted by now, having to go through more than thirty other tributes.

Haymitch nodded, and looked over to the spears. He went forward and picked one up, stepping towards the platform and focusing on his target. He took a breath before pitching it forward.

It hit one of the inner rings at a good spot, but wasn't on target.

He heard a few laughs and looked back at the Gamemakers. They had all gone back to mingling and drinking, ignoring him and focusing on the food, but a few were still watching.

He threw another, this time more on target, but when he looked back, nobody was watching him. He sighed and threw the rest of the spears on the stand, hitting the various targets on the various mannequins, all in the targets this time.

He stepped back after he threw the last one and hit right in the center of the chest in the mannequin furthest away.

He looked over to be dismissed, but they were all too distracted.

"May I continue?" Haymitch asked out of nowhere. Nobody made a notion to his existence.

Scowling, he wandered over to the knife table, and took a few in hand.

This time, he was just back in the training center. He was just practicing.

If they were too drunk to care, Haymitch wouldn't waste the time for more practice.

This time with the manikins, he got creative. One knife landed on a mannequins face, between the eyes. Another he threw at a crotch. The third one landed in the throat of the farthest one away. He had the fourth in his hand, ready to throw it, when he heard someone clear their throat.

He dropped the fourth knife as he turned. They all had surprised or angry looks on their faces. The Gamemaker was only staring.

"Uhm, you can go now. Thank you," the man in the red suit said. The others around him were staring wide eyed at the mannequins, as well as the large blazing fire.

Haymitch nodded, turned around - and left.

He opened the door and Maysilee stood up quickly.

"What?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at his calm demeanor.

"Nothing…" he said grinning. "Sorry about the mannequins."

That night, Haymitch was the first on the sofa in the main room on the suite.

This night he chose the desert scene, his favorite. The landscape was so foreign; it comforted him from being in another foreign place.

There were some weird looking trees that he had never seen before, but other than that, sand and rock stretched out into the distance, and never ended. He expected a critter to pass by; in the other scenes they had tried there was always an animal or person that would come across the wall.

Then he heard a screech, something familiar, and he saw a big bird fly into the scene, circle a few times, then flap its wings and then tuck them in to dive off the other side.

He smiled, remembered hearing that screech whenever he went as far as the border fence to hunt. It had scared him the first time he heard it – he had thought it was a Capitol transporter of some sort and he ran for a mile when he realized nobody was chasing him. He had gone back and listened for it again. He heard it a few more times and realized it was a bird when he saw something flying far in the distance.

"What was that?" Maysilee whispered right near him. He jumped slightly, and shook his head at himself in disappointment.

Maysilee was creepily silent. She was usually there first on the sofa at night, but the one time he had been first, she had crept up on him. And she had just done it again.

He turned to her smiling gaze.

"Don't know the name, but I've heard that cry once outside the border."

"The border?" she asked her eyes wide with curiosity.

"Yeah, sometimes I had to go as far as the fence to try to catch something."

"Oh." She nodded, and then waited a beat before she broke. "What the hell did you do today? The mannequins had holes in off target places, were you _trying_ to be stupid?" she said quickly.

He raised an eyebrow, and couldn't help but laugh. She was somewhat right. He did feel stupid, giving his best and having none of the Gamemakers' attention, the people who literally had his life in their hands.

"I threw all the spears and they didn't even notice that I was finished. So I started throwing knives at the same mannequins using my own targets, and then I was finally dismissed."

"Well they obviously were impressed, they gave you a damn Ten," she mumbled.

"Hey, a Nine is no different! Half of the Careers got Nines. You have the same score as them; you're going to be noticed," he said.

"Not when three other tributes have scores higher than you, or someone from the same District."

Haymitch sighed, and turned back to the desert scene.

"What do you care about the scores, or your odds? You know in the arena it doesn't mean a thing," he said.

He remembered the one year a 12 year old with platinum blonde hair had a 1-60 odds in the games, had no sponsors, and yet she survived up to the last three. Then her skills in hand to hand combat and quick learning with a machete lead to her victory, the youngest from District 4.

"Sponsors care, Haymitch. They're our lifeline."

"That's only half of the games."

"A big half. Medicine, food, we'll need help eventually in the arena."

He stayed silent, then spoke.

"I can't… I can't depend on that," he said finally.

He turned back to face her. Her hair was in a loose bun, and she was wearing the given pajamas that he was wearing as well, grey sweatpants and black tank tops.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because the interviews are tomorrow and I… I can only really come off as… I dunno-"

"An asshole?" she asked.

He laughed, and smiled.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I'll come off as a jerk that won't get any sponsors."

"You never know. People might find it charming," Maysilee shrugged.

"Charming?" he asked inquiringly, grinning. She nodded, now silent.

"Well, you were the one that got Rose, after all," she said in a whisper. He shook his head.

"She's too stupid for her own good. You know I broke it off after watching the Quarter Quell video? Just in case," he said. He then scoffed. "Probably damned myself by doing that."

Maysilee just tilted her head. She then shook it, but didn't say anything.

He sighed. There wasn't that much to say. He knew he didn't damn himself; he just was an unlucky bastard who had to enter too many tessera to keep he and his family alive.

"I'm going to go in, maybe more sleep will put me in a good mood," he said, standing up.

"Doubt it," Maysilee said, mirroring his thoughts as he walked to his room.

"Goodnight, May," he said, not turning back to see her reaction to her new nickname.


	6. Chapter 6: Interviews Part 1

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* * *

**Chapter 6 – Interviews Part 1**

He was almost up. He didn't feel that nervous, but he felt a small sheen of sweat on his upper lip that he wept away with his jacket. It was a light grey coal color, three-piece suit with black piping detail. Mackie had let his hair be its own mess, saying that it gave him a certain dangerous vibe.

He had never worn a suit before. He didn't understand the whole hype, really… until he had looked in the mirror.

It made him look completely different… and this time, in a good way.

It was the last girl from 11 on the screen now. Haymitch recalled her being very efficient in knowledge of edible from poison plants, but couldn't even hold an axe; and her name escaped him. She was sitting rigid in the chair as Caesar tried to coax her to respond with more than three word sentences. It didn't work out that well, so he ended it early, and there was little applause.

The Peacekeeper in a black uniform instead of white, who was escorting each of them to the stage, motioned to him to come on.

He looked back at Dylan, Maysilee, and Maggie, and gave a salute before he turned and followed the man.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, our first male tribute from District 12, Haymitch Abernathy!"

There was loud applause as he was pushed to start walking. The lights were blinding, but his eyes adjusted quickly enough for him not to trip on the steps up to the stage.

Cesar Flickerman was wearing a bright green suit, his hair matching in a short spiked fashion, reminding him of a porcupine. Haymitch restrained a smile at the ridiculous style, and gave the interviewer a strong handshake before sitting down.

"Quite a handshake, Haymitch! I take it you are strong?"

Haymitch shrugged as he looked out to the colorful audience, and caught the eye of one of the many cameras. He gave a sly smile.

"You could definitely say that, Caesar."

The audience laughed, and Caesar smiled.

"You're not here to play around, are you Haymitch?"

"No, no. I'm here to give an interview. You should be trying to play with me, Caesar!" he said, smiling. That got a laugh from Caesar, and more from the audience.

"So we know you're strong and confident, Haymitch. But, are you prepared?"

"Definitely. I'm not going down without a fight," he said. And he meant it.

During training, as he watched the careers exceed in most of the fighting skills and some of the survival skills, every word Cassie had said really hit him. He would die soon, unless he fought.

"Woah there, then the rest should know to watch out!" Caesar said, smiling at the camera. Haymitch just twitched the corner of his mouth.

Caesar turned back to Haymitch, his face changing to something serious.

"So, Haymitch, what do you think of the Games having one hundred percent more competitors than usual?" he asked.

Haymitch shrugged. What he saw of everybody from training… they were all scared out of their minds, even if they hid behind being from a wealthy district… they all seemed detached from what was happening.

"I don't see that it makes much of a difference. They'll still be one hundred percent as stupid as usual, so I figure my odds will be roughly the same."

The audience burst out laughing, as well as Caesar, and he just grinned.

"Well then, without further ado, the fighter of District 12, Haymitch Abernathy!" Caesar said. He grabbed his hand and pulled him to stand up. He then raised their hands in the air.

Haymitch smiled and gave a wave before he walked off the stage and was led by another man in another suit to a different room, where the District 12 crew was waiting.

Two were smiling and one was frowning.

The one frowning stepped forward.

"Haymitch Liel Abernathy, how dare you insult other tributes like that? It not only defies the games, it hurts the Cap- never mind that. I thought we agreed on no snarky comments for the interviews!" Clara said her whiny voice in a different octave.

"Sush," Cassie said, smiling. "He was great. People enjoy the confident attitude. He'll get help during the games. Hell, it was the same tact I took during the interview as well. Trust me kid, it surprisingly works," she said. "It was a catch, definitely. Will get you remembered."

"They laughed, that had to be good, right?" Haymitch asked.

Cassie nodded. Clara sighed.

Mackie was already sitting on the sofa and having a blue bubbly drink.

"You looked damn handsome in that suit, kid," she said, smiling. Her hair was shoulder length and light pink, and she had a yellow and green pinstripe dress.

"Thanks, Mackie, as always," he said. He was still just grateful this year the tributes were dressed in clothes instead of in past years, when the tributes were slathered in coal and little else for the Tribute Parade.

"Nah, I didn't have to do much work this year, the boys themselves sold it – I just dressed you all up. Such an attractive group. Such a - " she cut herself off, and took another drink. "Haymitch… it's your last night in the Capitol. Come and enjoy it."

He didn't argue the fact as he sat down next to Mackie and accepted the heavy glass she had poured him. He took a sip, winced at the sour taste similar to the Scotch on the train, but kept taking sips as he looked back at the screen at Dylan's interview.

He was in the same type of suit as Haymitch, but with a dark blue shade with a forest green piping.

He was putting on an act, definitely. Haymitch had never seen the kid so talkative for the last week or so they spent together.

Dylan was only 13, but was as almost as tall as Haymitch, making him seem stronger and more intimidating, even though he was a quiet and not too strong a kid. But he was using his physique to exaggerate himself in the interview.

He was making up a story about a girl back home now. Caesar told him to stay strong; to win the games and get back to his love. As Dylan exited the stage, Haymitch couldn't help but laugh.

Mackie shrugged.

"I've seen the hurt lover act before. Sometimes it works."

Haymitch didn't say anything as he noticed Maysilee come onto the stage.

He tipped back the glass all the way, finishing the sour drink before he set it down, all the while keeping his gaze on the screen. He noticed that she was still graceful and quick, even in a tight dark green silk dress that stopped at her knees. The color brought out her dirty blonde hair and her matching white smile.

He couldn't help but watch her.

"You need to let it go, Mitch. Sooner better than later," Dylan's voice broke his concentration. He blinked, and looked to his right, where Dylan was indeed sitting next to him.

"Hey, that was a good interview," Haymitch said truthfully. Dylan only shook his head.

"Don't change the subject. You can't be looking at her during the countdown at the Cornucopia."

Haymitch tightened his jaw in anger. Dylan was bringing forth the thoughts that had been itching at that back of his mind ever since she had bumped into him while boarding the train.

She had only shrugged and said:

'Not gonna say sorry. Won't have to in a week or two, anyways.'

Long story short – he hadn't felt anything close to Rose as he did to the girl on stage now.

"Shut up, Dylan. You're good at that, aren't you?" Haymitch said, turning to face the kid. He only glared back.

"Well I thought I might as well say what I have to for as long as I can. After all, I'm not 'the fighter'," he said, and he fell back and buried himself in the fluffy cushions of the sofa.

"I wasn't as charming as you though," Haymitch replied.

"Or her, either," Dylan said, grinning as he looked back at the screen, where Maysille was smiling and laughing along with Ceasar and the audience.

"Quite a story Maysilee! We'll be sure to keep an eye out for your quick wit! Something to look out for in the arena!"

Maysilee grinned.

"I hope so, Caesar."

"Aww, sweetheart, you're too kind! Ladies and gentlemen, Maysilee Donner from District 12!"

The applause was more than generous.

"Your crush might out-sponsor you, Abernathy," Dylan said.

Haymitch threw a weak punch at the kid's shoulder, and stood up.

"I'm going to head in. See you all tomorrow," he said, and headed for the elevator. He reached it and pressed the 12 button.

_(to be continued…)_


	7. Chapter 7: Interviews Part 2

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_thank you_

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**CHAPTER 7**

Once inside the elevator alone, he let out a few deep breaths and made some huffing noises and grunts, trying to either calm himself or get in the game, he wasn't sure. He was messed up.

He had been so calm after he got on the train. The daze of the crystal chandeliers and brightly colored food, furniture, and décor had put him in a different state.

But the first day of training, when he felt the hard fist of a trainer punch his shoulder, it all changed.

It was really happening – he was in these damned Games; and he had to fight it out. He didn't want to die.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened, and he lifted his head as he walked to the sofa, the one he and Maysilee had met at each night.

He lay down and stretched out his feet and arms, letting out a big breath.

He was heading towards his -_apparent_- death the next morning. He would wake up, get dressed in the appointed outfit for that year, and then sent to a Launch Room where he would enter the pod that would lift him to the arena.

Where he would face _forty-seven_ other kids. Three of them he now had gotten to know for the past two weeks. One of them had even given him a nightmare that he would have to be the one to end her life.

He let out a small shiver.

He would avoid that, at all costs.

The elevator dinged, and he opened his eyes.

He heard the 'click - click' of heels across the hard floors of the suite and pegged it as Mackie, Clara, Maggie, or…

"What the hell? Couldn't wait for the rest of us, huh, 'the _fighter_'?" He heard Maysilee's voice.

A second later she was leaning over the sofa, looking down right at him, her loose hair hanging down and draping her face.

Haymitch blinked and smiled. Maysilee walked around the sofa and flopped down right next to him, bouncing slightly on the nice cushions. He sat up.

"Well, I figured 'the charmer'," he mimicked her same sarcastic voice, "would get more sponsors, so there was no reason for me to stick around."

"Please," she scoffed, fingering the hem of the dress. Haymitch followed her gaze and watched her delicate hands, more-so her long legs. "It was just the dress and the few sips of 'courage' that Mackie slipped to me before I went on," she said.

"I think it was more the dress," Haymitch said.

Maysilee's head snapped up to meet his gaze, looking surprised.

"And your hair," he continued, and he reached forward a shaking hand to touch it.

It was as soft as it looked. He leaned in close and as he rubbed the strands between his fingertips, and he smiled even wider when he saw her cheeks go slightly pink. He took a deep breath, still feeling her soft hair, wanting her to pull away.

But she didn't, she kept his gaze. When the corner of her mouth twitched, he finally spoke; nothing left to lose.

"Listen. As of now, its do or die, you know what I mean?" he asked, his voice low, his fingers going still. His other hand was on the top of sofa, caging her in.

She didn't say anything, only gave a slight hint of a nod.

Haymitch nodded in return, and without a sound leaned forward more, tilting his head until her nose nestled against his. She smelled like vanilla and cookies, and the sourness of the blue drink from before. He leaned forward more and brushed her lips with his, waiting for a second more before he added pressure, and then felt her slowly reciprocating –

The elevator dinged and the doors opened.

Haymitch pulled in a deep breath and he stood up, walking to another seat across from the sofa. Maysillee kept her eyes closed for a split second more before opening them and meeting his gaze.

He gave her a grin, and her cheeks grew pink again as Maggie, Dylan and the rest came from the elevator and joined them at the sitting area.

"A good round of interviews, I must say!" Clara said, her voice sounding not as usually nasally.

"Excellent, guys," Cassie said, smiling at all of them. "You each had an edge and a story. You got laughs, you weren't as stiff as half of them, and it went great!"

"And you all looked amazing!" Mackie said. Qru, the designer for the girl tributes, nodded and smiled brightly.

"A round of drinks, please!" Clara shrieked, waving a hand around in the air. Two avox's rushed to fulfill her request, and soon everybody had a drink in their hands.

"I want to say one last thing before you all go to bed," Cassie said, and she raised her glass. Her face then changed; a straight line forming on her mouth, the smile gone.

"You are a strong group of tributes, and we all have hope for each of you. I am confident that you will fight and be strong, as you have shown me these past days. I wish you the best of luck tomorrow. Stand strong."

She then gulped down her whole drink.

Haymitch looked around, feeling as weird as the others looked. He then looked down at his clear drink, and thought what the hell. There was a possibility he was going to die tomorrow. Or the next day…

He tipped his head back and gulped his drink down, it tasting bubbly but sour at the same time. He sighed, and set the empty glass down. He looked at Maysilee, who was staring at him, her eyes inquiring. He sighed again, and looked away.

He couldn't deal with this. He was too stupid to even get near her. If they cross paths in the arena and it's life or death, Haymitch didn't want to have to choose…

He had to get out of there, and purge this girl from his mind before he went to his death tomorrow.

"Goodnight, everybody," he said, and without looking at any of them, he left to his room.

He shrugged out of his suit and didn't bother changing into his pajamas; he just slipped into bed and tried to fall asleep.

Soon after Dylan came in, and he silently got ready for bed and clicked off the light.

But Haymitch couldn't fall asleep. He waited until the sounds from the main room stopped, and the lights all switched off.

He sat up in bed, cursing her name silently.

And then damned look on her face when they were about to kiss.

And then the worse one, after, when he acted indifferent after the others entered.

He was going to need at least the start of a drink to help him sleep.

He got out of bed, hoping to get a drink quickly and bring it back to his room to have in bed. Since the rest had recently gone to bed, he suspected Maysilee would have to wait for Maggie to fall asleep.

But of course she was already there, but this time she was sitting against the floor to ceiling windows on the far side of the room. He didn't falter in his walk towards the drinks.

He picked up the red liquid that Cassie had pointed out would make him feel sleepy. She called it Port.

"You want a glass? Cassie said it would help with sleeping," he said aloud.

"What the hell," he heard her say, and he grinned as he grabbed two glasses and filled them halfway. He carried them over and sat next to her, facing the glass as well.

He looked down onto a large courtyard that was filled with citizens as they cheered and watched clips of the interviews on large screens. They seemed small from so high up.

"Cheering for our imminent death. How endearing," she muttered. She took the glass from Haymitch, brushing their fingers together, lingering, and then pulling back. She took a gulp and half smiled and nodded at Haymitch. He took small sip too, and looked down to the crowd.

"It really is just a game, for _them_" he said after a second or two.

"Don't you dare defend them," she said her voice lowered, obviously angry.

"I wasn't," he said, looking back up to meet her angry gaze. "I'm just trying to think like them. These people were raised here. They were raised to watch it as a game, not a slaughter of innocent kids," he explained.

"Why are you all of a sudden an anthropologist?" she asked, turning her body towards him.

"A what?" Haymitch asked, tilting his head.

She smiled, and shook her head.

"It was in a book I'd read. They were people who tried to think objectively about other people and cultures."

"Objectively?"

"Looking at something from a different side – actually, from no side at all. An outside perspective, with no pre-judgment."

"Well I'm definitely not them; I'm just wondering what it must be like to live here and to see dying as a game, rather than something that happens every day, like back at home."

"None of it is right, Haymitch! Stop acting like one side has some reason."

"I was saying anything but that! Do you think I've gotten used to the memory of my bloody father after he was attacked for trying to stop a fight over a few coins? Or watching the house across from us get many patients to heal, and then transferring a lot of covered bodies to the border to bury? None of this makes any sense. Not back home, and never will it make sense to me here. These people make me want to punch, kick, and dismember them," he finished, his hands actually clenching and unclenching.

She only tilted her head.

"Too bad we think too much alike," she said softly. Haymitch unintentionally leaned forward. He felt he was looking at his other half.

"Like I said, for them it's a game. But for us… it's our life. Our being," he whispered.

She looked down as their knees touched. He had moved forward again, and he wanted to say sorry, but instead said something completely different.

"That dress…" and May's head snapped up to meet his eyes, her gaze confused. "It… it will definitely help you get more sponsors."

Her head inched forward, and he continued.

"That and how you were yourself."

At that, her eyebrow twitched slightly, but she leaned forward a slight inch more, their knees dropping, hers on top of his.

"We all were pretending, putting on a mask… but you were just yourself," he continued.

She shook her head.

"Look who's talking? You just set Caesar at ease, and explained who you really were-"

"A coward who's afrai-"

"A fighter… like me. Even though I didn't get pegged the name."

He smiled back and opened his mouth to speak, but then a loud cheer from the crowd down below made him lean away and look down to see what was happening.

He then heard them cheering her name. The girl from District 1; one of the two blondes who had targeted him on the first day of training.

Remy.

"She's a bad fish," Maysilee said, taking a small sip of the drink this time.

Haymitch smiled.

"I have to say I agree," he said.

"We should both stay away from her in the arena."

"Oh, I was actually thinking of making her an ally," he said, rolling his eyes, hoping she caught his sarcasm.

"Seems smart: get cozy enough, then when she's sleeping…"

"You know the meaning of sarcasm, right?" He asked, leaning forward again to smell her sweet vanilla scent and see her expression of embarrassment at her jealousy up close.

He had actually hoped it was jealousy.

"When talking about tomor-" she started, but he closed the gap between them, and nestled his cheek against hers, stopping her.

"Don't, May…" he whispered right in her ear. He couldn't help it anymore; he needed to be close to her, to be touching her.

Like he had said earlier, it was now or never.

He felt her shiver, and he smiled. He pulled back enough so their noses barely touched. He needed to see her blue eyes this close when he had no more chances to.

"I shouldn't be thinking about this… damn you," she whispered, her eyebrows furrowing.

He laughed, but reached to grasp her arm and rest his other hand on her back to keep her close.

"You think this is easy for me?" he asked. "My name is called at the reaping and I go into isolation mode… then you come along and I-"

To his surprise, she was the one to shut him up.

She only grazed her mouth against his mid-sentence. She applied some pressure and started moving her lips against his, but he was immobile, only able to hold on to her small frame. She slowed down, ready to move away, but when she darted her lips out to lick his bottom tongue, he lost control.

He wrapped his arms around her and plastered their bodies together. One hand was on her low back, the other in her soft hair, holding her still.

He couldn't get enough of her. The smell, her soft hair, the faint sounds she made as they continued kissing; tongues melding and breaths lost. She brought her hands up to his hair and pulled – as though they could get any closer.

"May…" he whispered softly against her lips, and she drew back enough to rest her head against his neck, her quick breaths hitting his skin as she gave small kisses to his neck. He rubbed his hands up and down her back, enjoying the warmth, giving a kiss to her head, leaning forward to kiss her temple.

"Sorry…" she said, pulling back, but Haymitch stopped her from saying anything more by kissing her again, harder this time, run by lust he knew he shouldn't be feeling.

Her small whimper brought him to his senses. He pulled back from her lips slightly, and they breathed each other's air as she searched his eyes for an answer. He leaned forward to peck her lips, feeling the softness and tasting so sweet. She did the same to him, running her tongue along both of their lips before she pulled back. He reached forward and crushed their lips together for a final and unforgettable kiss, tongues molding, lips smashing, breathing ragged, before he pulled back and created as big as a distance as he could manage.

Their knees were still touching.

They only breathed heavily as they stared at each other.

"For as long as I live, I will never be sorry for that, May," he said softly. He reached forward and caressed her cheek one last time before he stood up, ready to walk away, feeling shaky and disarmed.

But she stood up with him, and grabbed his face to plant one last kiss on him.

Just as stubborn as he was.

He smiled, and caressed her hip before he stepped back from her, putting good distance between them.

"May, I-"

"No, Mitch. There's nothing left to say. Just… I'm just glad we stopped ignoring it. But thank you for being so… kind about it," she said shakily.

"I was anything _but_ ki-"

She silenced him again by planting her mouth on his again, and stepping back only a step, so she still grasped his shirt.

"Stop it. Just… accept that it happened, as it eventually would have," she said breathless as he was feeling. "I should get going to sleep. It's… we…. They are tomorrow, Mitch."

That broke everything. The air turned more serious than ever.

"They are May."

He pulled her into his arms so he could hide his paied face. He tucked his nose into her hair, to burn the vanilla scent and the warmth of her into his mind…

He regained his posture, and stepped back.

"I'll… see you tomorrow."

"See you…" she whispered, and he nodded solemnly and went back into his room. He licked his lips, trying to imprint in his brain the taste of hers; something comforting to remember before he died so soon.


	8. Chapter 8: The Games, Day 1

**Chapter 8 - The Games, Day 1**

Mackie woke him up.

She didn't say anything as he got out of bed. He looked over to see that Dylan and his bed were gone.

She unwrapped the uniform for him from a plastic wrap, turning her back as Haymitch changed into the underwear. Haymitch gave a grunt to signal it was clea, and she turned back and handed the garments over, still silent, which was unlike her.

He pulled on khaki cargo pants with a belt and multiple pockets. They felt light, which he liked. He then put on a white tank top, and eyed the dark grey shirt.

"Usually its navy or black; why grey?" he asked.

Mackie shrugged.

"Maybe the Quell has that color; I've only done this a few years. Here are the shoes; they're top notch this year."

She was right. He smiled as he strapped up the black boots that had springy soles and small straps all around to hold weapons, he assumed.

"Time to go," Mackie said.

"Where's Dylan?"

"He went earlier. Already at his launch room," she said, and they walked out to the main room of the Penthouse, where Cassie went with him to the elevator.

She turned a key on the wall inside, and opened a small flap that revealed a button. She pressed it, and the elevator went up. The doors opened to sunlight, and Haymitch followed Cassie's quick steps towards the hovercraft.

"Haymitch," Cassie said, turning and grabbing his shoulders.

He looked up at her, anxious for her last words to him.

"You've got this. Remember, first shelter and water, weapons can be made and scavenged once you find safe ground."

She reached up and grabbed his head.

"Good luck. The odds are in your favor this time."

She then dropped her hands.

"Thank you," Hamyitch said, straightening his shoulders. Cassie smiled and nodded, and then walked away back to the elevator.

He was led down a long hall with two peacekeepers on each side. They stopped at a door with a big black '12', and stood guard, waiting for him to go in. His hand shook a little as he turned the knob and swung the door inwards to a light blue room.

To his surprise, Leo was standing there, his hands in his pockets.

"Hey, kid," he said.

"Hi," he replied slowly. He honestly didn't know who to expect to be in there. He was somewhat glad it was Leo. In the time they trained every day in the gymnasium, destroying mannequins with spears, they sort of somewhat became friends. Haymitch didn't really know the concept really, but he wanted at least one friend before he died. And he was here.

"Uh, here's your jacket," Leo said, turning and taking said jacket off the hook. It was black with a green lining, had a box frame buckle attached, and hood with more pockets.

"Is there going to be snow or something?" Haymitch asked, ignoring his own shaky voice as he slipped it on, feeling warmth. It felt light, though. He clasped the belt, making it snug but not tight. Didn't want to cut off his breathing, he would need that when he was running.

"Let's hope not. Don't want to be mauled by a yeti in the first few hours," he replied. That got a grin from Haymitch.

"Prepare for launch," a female voice filled the room. Then it started counting down.

"Head up, kid," Leo said, stepping close to him.

"Thanks."

Leo nodded, and Haymitch turned and walked towards the clear cylinder with the platform that would lift him up into the arena.

"Any other last words?" Haymitch asked as he stepped in and turned around. The cylinder closed around him and he restrained from putting his hands against the glass.

"Stay alive!" he yelled, but Haymitch only heard it faintly. The scared look Leo had didn't comfort him; then suddenly, Leo smiled, and gave an acknowledging nod.

Haymitch wanted to ask what the hell that look was supposed to mean, but couldn't find his voice.

There was a click, and the ground was moving beneath him, lifting him up. He gave a last glance to Leo still smiling, the last thing he saw before there was complete darkness. And then he felt fresh air.

He took in a deep breath as white surrounded him and the platform stopped moving.

He heard the Head Gamemaker's voice announce the beginning of the Quarter Quell, but he was still trying to adjust his eyes. It only took a few more seconds.

The first thing he saw was the Cornucopia.

His eyes went wide at the gorgeous site of the golden structure that sat in a green meadow with wildflowers all around.

He noticed one or two different packs that he would try to get. Cassie had said not to go there, that it was suicide, but Haymitch was a fast runner and he knew he would be able to make it out of there alive. He looked around, keeping the seconds being counted off in the back of his mind.

_Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven…_

The field was endless. He looked around, noticing that the tributes were spaced a little closer than usual, but not close enough to give too an unfair advantage. But if the boy from District 8 wanted to run and attack him when the countdown ended, it would only take a few running strides.

But the boy seemed distracted. He was sniffing the air, and looking at the bright blue sky full of big white clouds. He was still blinking, shielding his eyes from the bright sun.

_Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen, twelve…_

Haymitch looked around and saw that most of the tributes seemed disoriented; still blinking at the bright sun, or staring at the snow capped mountain in the distance. Others just seemed dazed, mesmerized by the sight. He frowned, confused.

_Nine, eight, seven…_

His gaze flickered to Maysille, who had her eyes square on the Cornucopia. She was squatting slightly, as though to jump from her platform.

_Five, four…_

He shook his head and stared at a large backpack that was bulging, and multiple weapons leaning against the mouth of the Cornucopia.

_Three, two…_

The gong sounded, and Haymitch was off - running straight to the backpack. He knew he was faster and had at least a few more seconds on the rest of them during their distracted state. That was all he needed.

He grabbed the pack and kept sprinting to the weapons, grabbing a spear and a large knife as big as his forearm that had its own strap and buckle. He grabbed two smaller knives he tucked into his left boot, and ran off. The others were now closing in on the cornucopia, the Careers in the lead.

He gave smile and a wave to Remy who let out a scream and tried running faster; but she was far enough for him to get away, and he ran straight to the woods to get more cover.

He stopped a short while in and started climbing a tree; wanting to find out if he could watch the bloodbath, find out his competition beforehand. He stopped when he got near to the top, and squinted as he raised a hand to shield his eyes and looked towards the Cornucopia.

He already saw a few bodies in the grass, and more people were fighting. They were too far away for him to notice who was who. He did notice others running away from the Cornucopia. None of them, that he could notice, had the colored jacket from his district. He sighed, and turned around, resting on the branch, catching his breath.

Still alive.

He smiled.

He waited a few more seconds before he climbed down the tree, slipping once or twice but eventually finding his feet on the ground. He ran for a count of ten minutes in his head, and then switched to walking. After a while, he switched back to running and then stopped near a rock flat enough for him to sit on. Before he did he grabbed the strap and sheath that came with the knife – one side was serrated, the other razor sharp – and attached it to his belt.

He then sat down, setting his spear next to him in case he needed to reach it easily.

He opened the smaller front pocket of his backpack first, pulling out a small flashlight and a box with gauze, bandages, and ointment.

He put it all back and opened the bigger pocket next, smiling as he peered into it. There were two thin blankets rolled tightly, and they seemed to be waterproof. There was an extra pair of socks and a shirt, bags of dried fruit and beef, and a pack of crackers. There was an aluminum bottle filled to the edge with water - which he took a generous sip of before twisting the cap back on - and a leather water skin that was empty. The last he saw was three more knives. He kept two inside the backpack, and added the third one to his right boot.

He took a deep breath in, and stood up as he let it out and grabbed his spear.

He then started jogging. He had a higher possibility of crossing paths with other tributes if he stuck around close to the entrance of the woods.

He was at least fifteen minutes in when the first blast of the cannon surprised him, and he almost tripped but caught his balance on a tree.

He straightened and waited as he counted each blast until it was silent again.

Eighteen.

That meant twenty-nine left.

He decided to rest and sat on the ground, sticking the spear upright next to him and resting the backpack on his other side. He took another sip of water, and felt the weight of the bottle after. He would have to ration until he could find a source, or until it rained. He felt hungry, but knew he could last until morning until he would need food.

He hadn't crossed any critters yet, but he heard the songs of birds, which meant there had to be more animals here. He would hunt later. Tomorrow.

He knew he would survive until then; in fact with his pack, he could survive at most a week if he didn't run into anybody else. But even if he did, he hit the jackpot at the Cornucopia, and if he missed with his spear, he had all the knives he could use.

He was still worried about what it would be like to kill his first person, but pushed it to the back of his mind.

Unfortunately Maysilee came forward, and he shook his head. He wasn't sure what he would do if he saw her again. Run away, scream and throw something at her, or ask to spend more time with her before he died – even if it was in this place. Maybe he would become mute so he wouldn't say or do any more stupid things that only happened around her.

He sighed, and stood up again. He needed a plan.

He heard a rustle nearby, and turned around, his spear in his hand, balanced and ready.

A young girl with wavy red hair came into view. She was holding onto her right arm, blood spilling out from beneath her fingers.

She saw him and froze. He didn't move either.

She was trembling. And by the look of the flow of blood, she was dying. And she was just a girl.

Haymitch would be more comfortable with a guy being his first kill.

He stood up straight, loosening his pose and lowering the spear, but still ready to use it unless this was an act.

She stumbled in her step, still looking at him. She then noticed his merciful stance, and smiled.

She lipped the words 'Thank You' and then slipped out of view, walking across in front of him and disappearing to his left.

He started running again – to the right, and didn't hear another set of steps so he slowed to a jog, but kept going.

The canon blasted a couple of minutes later.

Twenty-eight left.

Switching between jogging and walking, he waited until twilight to stop and take a rest. He spared himself a sip of water, and decided to climb a bunch of rocks and jump to a low tree branch to get out of sight.

He put the spearhead on a soft branch and rested the handle on his legs. He took one of the blankets and kept it coiled and wrapped it around the branch and knotted it at his knees. He put the backpack on backwards, wrapping the straps onto his back, moving his hands around the front pocket where he felt the shape of the small first aid kit.

He heard the anthem, and looked up at the Capitol seal floating in the sky. Then a picture appeared boy from District 3, followed from a picture of a girl from the same district. Then all of the tributes from 4, and a girl from 5, the girl Haymitch had seen. Then all of the tributes from 6, a boy from 8, the four from District 9, and two boys and a girl from 11.

The picture faded into the seal, which then disappeared.

So Dylan, Maggie, and Maysilee were still alive. He hated that it made him relieved.

Even worse, he fell asleep with the image of Maysilee on the platform at the Cornucopia. The look on her face was how he felt: ready to die, but not without a fight.

* * *

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	9. Chapter 9: The Games, Day 2

**CHAPTER 9: The Games, Day 2**

The songs of the birds in the trees around woke him up. He opened his eyes slowly, and his heartbeat quickened when he realized he had no idea where he was.

It took a second before it hit him in the gut.

He was in the arena.

He sighed, feeling stupid at forgetting such a thing so easily. He looked around to the other branches in the trees surrounding him. To his left there was a nest with a bluebird, and three little babies, their heads swaying in the air as they cheeped. The mother bird was just staring at Haymitch.

Same as him, ready to fight or flee.

The bluebird let out a short screech of a warning.

He raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. The bird let out another screech, but when he didn't move, the bird started gagging and began feeding its young-lings.

Haymitch shook his head. The birds were probably going to be killed when the games were over and the arena was set as another landmark for the Capitol.

The laugh of a boy raised him out of his sleepy state, and he looked down, his hand already on the handle of his spear.

It was a second or two before two boys came into his eyesight, a little off to his right. One was blonde, the other had black hair. They each had a backpack, but the black haired kid was the one holding a knife.

"Remember? He was squealing like a little girl! 'Oh please, don't kill me!'" the black haired kid said, laughing and smiling.

"What else do you expect when you fight at the Cornucopia?" the blonde replied, shaking his head. They took a few more steps, when the blonde one smiled and held up a hand.

"What?" the other one asked. The blonde guy only smiled, and put his arm out, his hand calm, but his pointer finger straight.

After a second or two, Haymitch watched a bright green butterfly, surprisingly big, flutter and land on the boy's finger.

"Such a wuss, 7," the black haired boy said, shaking his head, but still stepping forward and looking at the bug as well.

"I've never seen one so big like this," the blonde one said, mirroring Haymitch's thoughts.

"Well, let it fly away, we need to keep moving," the other one said, and kept walking in the direction they were headed.

"Ow!" the blonde said suddenly.

Haymitch was watching the black haired kid, the one armed. He turned his gaze to the blonde, who was now kneeling on the ground, holding his hand.

The butterfly was now spiraling upwards, and then it floated down onto the other boy's knife hand. Another second and he was also crying out in pain and falling to the ground.

"What the hell?" the blonde gasped, now lying down, shaking slightly.

"This thing is poisonous!" the black haired kid said.

Too late.

Haymitch rushed and untied his legs from the branch, keeping his gaze on the green butterfly, which was thankfully moving away from him.

The two boys were still moaning and groaning. Haymitch sighed, grabbed the spear, reversed his backpack so he was wearing it normally, and jumped down. He landed a few feet away from the dying boys, who both gasped at his appearance.

Haymitch wished he could do something, but the rate that these boys were turning white made him pessimistic. And based on their talk, they didn't seem too bad about killing, and that would eventually mean him if he chose to join them.

"Please," the blonde one said, reaching out a hand. Haymitch shook his head, and didn't move.

"Please," the black haired boy said this time. He lifted his arm, holding the knife out to him. An invitation to kill them both.

Haymitch looked into the boy's eyes, now tearing and bloodshot.

"I'm sorry."

It took everything he had to turn around and walk away, ignoring the yells and moans of the dying boys behind him.

When the cannons sounded a little later, he didn't even falter in his quick step.

Twenty-six.

A minute or two after, he stopped. He then started unzipping his pants, knowing the cameras would stop following him if he was about to relieve himself… he took this short private time to give himself a few seconds to himself to close his eyes tight and push back the tears.

He took a few deep breaths, and opened his eyes. He zipped his pants and fastened the buckle and then headed back towards the kids in a quick jog. Both of them had packs, they had to have something of use in them.

He reached their bodies, and stopped.

It had seemed a good idea at the time, but he wasn't so sure now.

The black haired kid was on his stomach, so Haymitch could open the zippers easily and not disturb the body so much.

There was a pack of sunflower seeds and dried beef, and two empty bottles. He took the food and the larger bottle of the two.

The blonde's pack was filled with dirt and leaves, which left him confused.

He took the extra knife from the ground where one of the boys had dropped it, and slipped it into his left boot – using all of the three straps that fit each knife perfectly. He then looked around, and his gaze found the snow capped mountain.

He didn't know why, but he had a bad feeling about it, and decided his plan would be mostly to keep as far away from it as possible.

With the mountain at his back, he started to jog.

This way, he might even reach the end of the arena - it had to end sometime, it had to have a boundary.

He waited until the sun was at his back to stop and take a rest.

After many inner debates, Haymitch decided to take a chance and check to see if the Cornucopia was abandoned or not. He had already gone through the bag of dried fruit and the package of crackers, and was chewing on the sunflower seeds now. And his water was almost empty. He needed to find a source of water, or hope there was more at the Cornucopia.

He took a different route, moving far to the right before he retraced the direction he came from. Resting every half hour on a low tree branch, knowing the area would be populated by twenty six others who wanted his life, it took him a while.

It was after two hours before he heard a group of voices. Thankfully he was still hidden, and decided to climb to a higher branch just in case.

He counted ten figures move beneath him.

No surprise, the leader of the group was one of the Careers, one of the boys from District 2… Slater, he remembered the name. Largely built with buzz cut black hair. Muscles that popped out with veins. He had on a backpack and was armed to the teeth, a bow slung across his shoulder and a sword and axe in each hand.

"Let's keep moving towards the mountain. Set up camp at the top, have a better view of everything," he said in a low and stern tone.

The rest didn't answer; they just continued to follow him.  
Haymitch waited a few minutes before dropping to the ground and slowly following them back to the Cornucopia. He rushed beside them, staying quiet and keeping his distance, but doing it quickly, needing to get to there before they reached it and raided it.

He reached it in good time. He found a few bags of fruit and was able to save one or two apples that weren't rotten or torn in half, and found two more lightweight blankets. He went to the back, and saw a few large jugs of water labeled H20. He wanted to take two, but after picking the first one up, he knew he wouldn't be able to lug them away in time. He frantically looked around for smaller containers, but didn't find any. He took a deep breath and grabbed one of the large containers, box like with a handle.

He dragged it to the mouth of the Cornucopia, and peeked out. Nothing yet. He went out the mouth and crept along the side.

That's when he heard the shriek of a girl.

Shit, he had been found.

He turned but saw that Slater was pinching a girl's ass, grinning wickedly. The two had stumbled ahead of the group, and weren't paying attention to anything, thankfully including him. Haymitch picked up the carton and booked it to the trees. He made it far enough into the trees just in time as he looked back and saw the rest of the group emerge into the clearing.

He watched, wanting to hear more of what Slater had to say.

"Set some traps, Seven, I remember noticing you were good at those. Make sure anybody who enters this thing doesn't leave alive," Slater said, as though giving an order to a hotel maid to change sheets.

'Seven', a smaller boy with curly red hair, only nodded and grabbed some wire out of his pack. He began to mold and manipulate a booby trap as District 2 cleared his throat.

"Let's move on to the mountain!"

Haymitch watched Seven closely, paying attention to where he set the traps, which knick in the wire would either set the trap, or do slight harm.

The boy took ten minutes, and then started running towards the mountain, almost desperate to get back to the group. Too bad he would end up dead soon. The Careers were always ruthless to the lower districts.

He waited a minute or so and was about to leave to go further into the forest when he saw from the other side of the clearing. The kid, the youngest tribute at age 12 from District 10, and the size of someone much younger, was lightly running towards the Cornucopia. Then he stopped just short of one of the first wires.

He then proceeded to jump past each trigger of the trap, and reached the entrance of the Cornucopia.

Haymitch watched in amazement as the boy smiled in triumph and started to walk forward. Then Haymitch noticed a small glisten and saw it was more wire…

He wanted to call out to save the boy, but he kept walking and tripped over it. Then there was a snap, and a small knife came flying out from the side. It lodged itself in the boys head, and his body fell limp and crumbled to the ground.

Haymitch let out a sob before he could contain it, and sat on the water carton, closing his eyes tight.

He wasn't ready for any of this. He was so oddly calm at the reaping… and during the train ride he wanted to smash and throw every food dish, disgusted at the decadence, and then even during training he kept his head.

Nothing could have prepared him for this. Not Clara, not Leo or any of the other gym trainers… not even the grotesque citizens of the damned Capitol, treating this like a real game, a show.

He took a couple of more breaths and then moved to stand up at the sound of the cannon. He took a deep breath and when to filling his water bottles and waterskin, leaving the box much lighter to carry around. He turned and started running back into the woods, where he should have stayed.


	10. Chapter 10: The Games, Day 2 (Part 2)

**Chapter 10 Day 2 (Part 2)**

Only after five minutes of running did Haymitch hear yet another cannon blast. He stopped, startled. Was someone else so stupid enough to go the Cornucopia? Did they not see the dead body? Or were the hovercrafts that quick to pick them up?

He jogged for a little bit, but tripped when he heard his name. He let out a breath as he sat on the forest ground, checking out his surroundings; he was alone.

Was he already going crazy?

He remembered it happened to a few tributes in some games a while ago. In three different games, tributes had gone slightly insane, either from dehydration or malnutrition, or even from spending so much time alone. Each had found a creative way to off themselves, only after they hunted a few other tributes.

He hadn't killed anybody yet; he was hydrated and full from his green apple that tasted legendary. Absentmindedly he grabbed a few sips of water, refilling the water he took. But then he heard his name again.

"Haymitch!"

He thought he recognized the voice, but couldn't place it.

"Haymitch?"

He looked around, but didn't see anything but trees and brush.

"_Haymitch_!"

That was definitely not in his head. He stood up, putting his bottle away, and looked around.

"Yes! Haymitch!"

He followed the voice, a female. Did many tributes remember his name? He stopped.

Was this a trap?

"Please, Haymitch…" the voice faded to a whisper, and then he recognized the voice.

The mouse, Maggie. Quiet yet observant, listening but not saying anything. But her laughter along with Maysilee's at night was also unforgettable. He was still surprised they found something so amusing during a time of such distress.

He started walking quicker. She was quiet, but caring. She mentioned flaws that Dylan and he had at the fire starting station, and helped them.

"Haymitch!"

And then he found her.

She was lying against a tree, her face and arms covered in a green camouflage amongst the brush. There were two knives lodged in her chest and stomach, bleeding freely. She looked pale.

"Hey," she said, trying to smile but wincing instead.

"Maggie…" he whispered, and ran towards her, sitting next to her. He reached forward to draw a knife out, but she raised a hand.

"No, don't… bother…" she said out of breath. "They've gone… done enough damage. But I got one of… them, mind you…"

"Oh, god," he said. He then started to frantically search his pack for the small first aid kit. There had to be something…

"No… Mitch… I'm not supposed to live…"

He stopped, and turned to stare at her. She smiled slightly.

"I lasted this far though, right? That's something to talk about, especially for our district," she whispered. She was fading quickly.

"Who was it?"

"It was a blur, but I think I saw the Career, the blonde… she was with three big boys… and I got one of them."

So Remy had an alliance. Haymitch frowned.

"Thanks for staying with me…" she said, and he focused back on her. He grasped her arm and wanted to pull back at the coldness, but held on anyways.

"I'm sorry, Maggie," he whispered.

She only shook her head. She opened her mouth to say something, but it was lost as her eyes rolled back and her head dropped to the side.

He looked around, and found she had a bow and arrow in her other hand… That was all she had.

He left them alone as he crossed her arms over her lap, and then stood up and walked away. He wasn't used to bows and arrows anyways, didn't see a use in taking them.

He ran for as long as he could, not wanting to be there when the hovercraft arrived.

He didn't even falter when he heard the cannon.

When the sun started setting, Haymitch climbed onto a branch and rested, taking a small bite or two of a snack and a few gulps of his water.

He was catching his breath when he heard a snap of a twig. He stopped still, and looked down, wondering who it was this time.

His heart twitched when he saw her walking slowly, her blonde hair in a loose bun on her head, her head looking back and forth as she held a bamboo stick in one hand, a knife in the other, a small pack resting on her back.

He wanted to call out 'May', just to see her face, but he resisted. He wasn't able to figure out if she wanted an alliance or not. And he could tell right now she was perfectly fine being alone.

He almost sighed, but held his breath. She kept walking, and when she was out of sight, he jumped down. He looked in the direction she went for a while, almost willing her to come back.

When she didn't, he turned a little to the right and ran at a slant, away from trouble.

* * *

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	11. Chapter 11: The Games, Day 3, 4, and 5

**CHAPTER 11**

Haymitch woke the next morning from his spot under a fallen tree, and chewed on a piece of dry meat as he started walking. His mind couldn't help but go back to Maysilee, and what weapon that bamboo stick was supposed to be. Or maybe it was her source of food?

He took a last swallow of the meat, and then a small chatter stopped him in his tracks.

It sounded like some sort of animal.

Haymitch bent down and grabbed a knife from his boot.

He looked around, and saw it. A squirrel with soft golden fur and a luxurious tail was staring right back at him, on its hind legs and its arms limp.

"Hey little guy," Haymitch said, smiling and loosening his tight grip on his knife. This thing he could easily catch with his hands, therefore not ruining the body - more meat.

That's when it let out a shriek and jumped, flying right at his face.

It latched onto his cheeks and he yelled out at the claws digging into his skin. He grabbed it off his face and threw it, almost smiling at its cry of distress. That's when he felt a weight on his leg, and looked down.

There were more of them, and they were quick.

Haymitch started swinging his knife as fast as he could, his pain and anger accelerating his speed. He heard squeals and cries, but kept chopping, and bending down, grabbed another knife from his boot with his other hand. Even as he felt one scratch deep into his arm, and one on his neck, he kept fighting.

He felt two fly onto his back, and he dropped down the ground, squishing them before he rolled two times, and then jumped back up. He shook his legs, and started running. He heard chatter and clucks and squeals, but kept going. He reached a small clearing where he could see more, and turned both knives in his hands at the ready.

There were only three of them left, looking at him maliciously.

The first one jumped, and Haymitch was able to duck and give it a big cut on its stomach mid-air. It fell dead to the ground. The two other jumped at the same time, and he stabbed one and ducked the other, throwing the knife to where it landed a few feet away. He figured the way the knife stayed in its body that it was finally dead.

He stood there breathing heavily, now feeling blood trickling down his face.

"Holy shit!" he yelled out.

Poisonous butterflies, now evil squirrels? What was distorted dream of an arena? Who the hell designed this thing?

He caught his breath for another minute or two, and then began collecting the bodies. He would have _all_ of the little devils for a meal, or five.

He built a small fire with rocks. When they turned red, he diminished the fire and cooked the squirrels on the red hot rocks, not wanting to put himself out in the open with too much smoke.

The first two squirrels were delicious. The third one was meaty and juicy, and the fourth was so good he closed his eyes.

He had never been so full in his life – but revenge was best served warm and juicy this time around.

He wrapped the others in big leaves, and packed them into his backpack. He took a deep breath, let out a burp, took a sip or two of water, found his carton of water from the Cornucopia that he had dropped when running from the squirrels, and then kept walking.

This time however, he held a knife in his hand, now always at the ready.

When night fell and the sky appeared with no new deaths, Haymitch made shelter in the brush. Surprisingly he fell asleep easily, nestled under a roof of branches he had arranged next to a fallen tree.

In the morning, he cooked one more of the carnivorous squirrels, and then kept walking.

It was afternoon, the sun right above him, when he felt the ground tremble below him. He stopped, and his heartbeat quickened and he held his breath. It was a few more seconds before it happened again, yet this time more faint.

With dread, he climbed the nearest tree clumsily, wrapping his body around the thin trunk as he reached the top, with a good view of most of the arena.

The big mountain was now spewing thick black smoke at an alarming rate. He heard another rumble, and then watched in awe as orange hot liquid spewed from the mount, spilling down the mountainside at an alarming rate.

He remembered reading about them in school. Volcanoes.

Something about plate tectonics breaking, and allowing the inner earth's core to spew from the top of the mountain: or something like that. He read of big volcanoes creating islands, wiping out cities, and even fossilizing bodies.

He never expected to see a real one in his life. They had all been erupted and immobile long before he was born.

He could only watch in slight fascination – but mostly horror as the red hot lava flowed down the mountain side, slowing near the Cornucopia, and then turning to black. At least an hour passed, and finally the lava stopped, and the mountain only spewed ash and smoke.

In a daze he just watched. When he heard the first cannon he jumped, but readjusted his bodily grip on the branch, and counted them in his head.

Ten blasts.

The group led by Slater. He was so intent on setting camp at the top of the mountain.

They probably died in seconds at the heat.

He sat on the branch of the tree until the sun set. Then he heard the anthem. This time, he didn't have the heart to look. He was tired of seeing scowling faces, now dead, staring down at him.

But he counted the canons, leaving thirteen left.

He had thirteen lives to beat before he could go home… if he ever did.

Haymitch woke the next morning, this time in a small cave, and stayed there lying for a while before he sat up. His back felt sore, and he stretched for a while until he heard the first cannon of the day.

These games were moving a lot faster than he thought they would. The last Quarter Quell lasted a week and half. It was only the fifth day – and more than half of the tributes were gone.

Something was definitely at hand from the game makers. Maybe a quicker games lead for a happier audience.

He then made the choice to stay where he was for a day or two, regaining his strength and mentality. He ate a piece of dried fruit, followed with beef, and then started on exercises; pushups, crunches, and using a handful of knives as weights – thought they didn't do much.

There were three more canons throughout the day, and he walked out a little to watch the projection in the sky.

A girl form District 2, the brunette who followed Remy around in the training gym. Guess she became useless to her… then both girls from District 10.

He smiled, sure it was over, and his heart dropped at the next face.

It was Dylan. The words District 12 floated below him. Dylan even had a slight smile in his photo, unlike the other scowling faces of the dead tributes projected to the sky.

Haymitch took a few deep breaths before he went back the cave, reset two blankets for a lame mattress, and fell asleep; trying his hardest not to think of the friend he had made so quickly, and lost even sooner.


	12. Chapter 12: The Games, Day 6

**CHAPTER 12: DAY 6 (Part 1)**

A loud screech woke him up.

He sat into a sitting position in a flash, gripping the knife he had slept with in his hand tightly.

He crept to the mouth of the cave, low on his stomach.

He looked outside, and saw an Owl that was having a meal of a golden squirrel. He smiled, and sat up. The bird ignored the movement and kept eating. He wondered when the animals entered the arena. Were they real or just creations?

He went back inside and snacked on an apple for breakfast. He stretched, packed his things, and left the cave, needing to stay on the move. He knew there had to be a border to the Arena. If he reached it… he wasn't sure about what it would entail, but he had an inkling to find out.

He was walking for only a couple of minutes before he heard voices.

He stopped short, looking at each tree around him, but finding no easy route out. If he started running, he would make noise and it would turn into a chase…

He sighed, and pulled his larger knife from his waist, gripping the spear in his other hand tightly. He ignored that it was shaking.

He took a deep breath, feeling ready to fight whoever came towards him.

The laughing voices of the three tributes soon faded, and Haymitch watched them enter the small clearing in the woods, bodies as tense as his, ready to fight.

One of them is armed, with a small wooden club already covered in dry blood. The other two have bruised knuckles and blood splatters on their gray shirts.

No words are exchanged. Haymitch readjusted slowly the grip on his spear, and threw it. The one he aimed at ducked it in time, then grabbed it and broke it in half, laughing. The guy in front attacked, yelling out and coming right at him, holding the club in a good grip. He took a long time to set up his swing, giving Haymitch time to duck it and give a good swipe of a cut onto the boys' throat. He fell over quickly.

He swung the knife the other way, and landed a good kick in the middle of the other boy's chest, sending him to the ground.

He blocked a hit from the third, the one who broke his spear, and landed a good punch to send him tumbling backwards.

Haymitch managed to grab the club from the dead hands of the first guy, and hit one of them square on the head, knocking him either dead or unconscious. The remaining one let out a yell, and Haymitch threw his arm forward to stab him with his big knife, but he swerved out of the way, grabbed his arm tight, and twisted.

Haymitch let go of the knife in pain and the two struggled, throwing punches and trying to grab each other. He managed to strike the other kid with the club on his face, and his mouth spit out blood, but he provided a counter attack and the club went flying from Haymitch's hand, spiraling into the woods.

The boy was now trying to get a grip of his neck, and his fingers were close to his mouth… Haymitch reached forward and bit hard on two fingers he managed to grab.

He ignored the scream of the kid underneath him as he spit out what he could, and reached forward to quickly snap the neck of the boy. Haymitch breathed heavily and scrambled off the body after it fell still, and he scooted quickly away from both bodies. He sighed, and stood up.

He then heard a yell, and turned in time to see the now conscious tribute yell and come at him with one of his knives in hand. Haymitch ducked the blow in time, but the tribute moved his arm and hit him with the handle, onto his cheek. He yelled out as he felt strong arms grab him and then move him to a death grip, arm around his throat tightly, the serrated blade cutting into his skin on his chest.

Haymitch yelled and thrashed out behind him, but didn't do good enough damage. He winced and closed his eyes at the dizziness.

So this was his time.

He thought he would make it farther, but he wasn't good enough as these guys; he was sure it was a Career that had his own life in his arms.

His vision started blurring, his breathing shortening, and he welcomed the end.

The boy tightened his grip around his throat tightly, and Haymtich gasped.

He shouted out "Cowards!" as his last words to the Gamemakers and the tribute himself…

And then he heard the distinct sound something flying through the air, and the silent plunk sound it made when it hit skin.

The grip around him loosened, and dying for breath Haymitch broke loose, falling to the ground, breathing in the grass and fresh air with much gratitude. While he gasped for breath he reached to his boot to get his net knife out of its sheath, getting ready for the tribute who wanted him next.

He heard a few steps, and he turned on his back quickly, not strong enough to jump yet, but gathering the power.

"You're better at hand to hand than I thought you would be," he heard an all too familiar voice.

And after second or two - just like the night of the interviews, Maysille's face appeared right above him. This time instead of a frown, it was a proud smile.

"And you are a lot smarter… as well as quiet, but not quite enough. I could hear you from a mile away yesterday," he replied, grinning.

Her smile faltered, and she pulled back. He sat up gingerly.

She was now frowning.

"I knew somebody was watching me! Damn you, where were you hiding?"

"I'm not great at it, but sometimes having a bird's eye view is worth the trouble," he said, pointing up at the trees around them.

Haymitch moved to stand up, and Maysilee did the same. They both stood there silently, Haymitch still catching his breath. He noticed a small spark in her eyes, and then she spoke.

"We'd live longer with the two of us…" she said.

Haymitch only grinned.

"I guess you just proved that," he said, and Maysilee smiled wider and let down her guard…

"May…" He wasn't sure how to thank her.

At that name, her eyebrows furrowed, and she shook her head as she started walking.

He followed quietly.

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	13. Chapter 13: The Games, Day 6 (Part 2)

**CHAPTER 13: Day 6 Part 2**

After half an hour they reached the bottom of a large and tall quarry of rocks, all very sharp. There was even blood on some of them.

Haymitch turned to her, an eyebrow raised.

"Follow me exactly; make sure you have a good grip. Either loose the spear or somehow strap it to your bag, you'll want both hands. Don't slip."

Haymitch only gave a smile and nodded. She started up the quarry, going in a weird zigzag pattern, climbing the rocks and avoiding the sharper points with flexibility. He followed her, going much slower, and she sighed heavily to show her impatience instead of saying anything.

After a while, he realized she had smeared some black on the points where she used her hands and feet. Either crusted blood… but he told himself it was ash, or coal.

He picked up his pace then. Feeling challenged at her wit, he wanted to show his strength and agility.

They finally reached the top, where she had manipulated the tree branches with rope to cover the top, making a shelter.

She had a small fire-pit with large stones and wood, but no meat around. She had made a small sleeping area with leaves as a cushion. She had only a small bowl, a half empty package of dried beef, and her small backpack rested against a corner

They both sat down, winded from the climb. Haymich only smiled. He was constantly moving, but somehow she had managed the perfect shelter. She had made it farther into the forest; quicker than he was.

She took Cassie's tactic, and acted less than par in training.

"You did well, May," he said.

She shook her head, motioning towards his pack.

"I didn't make it so well in the bloodbath."

"But we both made it off the platforms…"

"I don't run as fast as you. I barely was able to get this one pack. Had to fight another girl for it… she-" her voice cracked, and she fell silent.

"You managed to make shelter, a reliable and safe one. One to tease other tributes with, I bet you had fun with that…"

The corner of her mouth twitched, and it broke into a grin.

"I did. It made them angrier, and they lost focus."

"How many tried to make it up here, May?"

She frowned, sighed, and then spoke.

"Four. The third one begged me to kill him; he was bleeding out through his heel…"

Haymitch only looked down at the sharp rocks below them. He noticed the blood more prominently now. Like the blood on the club he beat the boy with. The splatter on Maggie's clothes as she bled out… the young boy caught in the trap, so close to a victory of a meal.

"What about you, Mitch? I tell you mine, you tell me yours," she said stubbornly.

He sighed.

"The butterflies are poisonous here," he said She nodded.

"I managed to see that."

"The two kids asked me to kill them too, when I came down from the tree. I only walked away, I couldn't... Do you know what happened to Dylan?"

Maysilee looked down.

"I only saw him with a small girl; they were heading back towards the Cornucopia the morning before the volcano… But, I don't know what happened, sorry."

Haymitch didn't do anything, just clenched his jaw. He spoke next, feeling she should know.

"I was with Maggie," he said softly. Her head jerked and she stared at him aghast.

"What the fu-"

"I think two guys from maybe the higher Districts had gotten the best of her," he said quickly. She let out a breath, but still kept his gaze. "She… she had a bow and arrows. She told me she had gotten one of them."

"Why didn't you-"

"I tried to help but she refused. She just wanted company."

He saw her eyes getting wet, and she turned away.

"May," he said softly.

He didn't want to, but his body reached for her anyways.

At the first touch she turned and buried herself in his embrace, crying silently into his shirt. He held back his own hurt, not wanting the cameras to see him like that. The best he could do was hide Maysilee's tears.

He rubbed her back absentmindedly as he hid his own face in her hair, wishing for only a second they could both be back home, not exposed to _this_.

Maysilee had grown close to Maggie, he had seen it on the train, and during training. He even heard their laughs carry though the penthouse.

After a couple of minutes, Maysilee grew still. He felt her deep breaths against his shirt before she pulled away.

The sun was now setting, and the temperature had dropped.

Haymitch took a breath, reached behind him to rest the spear against a near rock, and unbuckled his belt strap of his larger knife. He slid off his backpack and smiled as he zipped open one of the slots.

"Feeling hungry?"

Maysilee only tilted her head.

"What the hell else could you have after six days? You rationed your food too well; it's probably only one more serv-"

Her voice faded as he pulled out two limp squirrels and dropped them at Maysilee's crossed legs.

"You… you fought these?"

"A whole pack, actually. I had my knives."

"Well, you're probably used to squirrels anyways."

"These were a lot quicker and much more violent than the ones at home."

"Yeah, you're face can tell me that," she said with a slight frown. "I think I have some rain water collected to wash it out-

"I have a first aid kit, but they barely hurt anymore."

She reached forward to touch the one on his jaw, and he involuntarily winced. She shook her head.

"The deeper ones are definitely infected, the skin is dark red and not pink. You would've died within a few days, let me take care of them."

She rummaged in his pack, and retrieved the small box. She rubbed the antiseptic cream on his scars and used the Band-Aids he had left, using a leaf or two she had in her own stash to cover the other wounds.

He stayed still during the ordeal, not showing the slight pain as she touched the scars.

"Am I your first ally?" he asked.

She startled in her touch at a scar on his forearm where she was bandaging with the last of the leaves.

"Y- yes, you are," she said slowly, going back to wrapping his arm tightly with the leaves so they didn't fall off easily.

"You're my first too," he said smiling. She looked up quickly, and they both blushed and looked away.

Haymitch lit a fire and extinguished it as soon as the rocks got hot enough to cook the squirrels without drawing smoke, showing Maysilee a new trick which she smiled and shook her head at.

She ignited the fire to a full flame, and pointed above her.

"The branches dissipate the smoke."

"Damn you are really smart," Haymitch replied, shaking his head.

"Just… handy."

"No, you're smart; something that the past victors all had," he said, turning the squirrels on the fire. He brought out his cantine, and handed it to her.

She smiled brightly, genuinely happy, but she hid it quickly, and grabbed it from his hand. She took only two small sips, then closed the lid and stuck her hand out.

He shook his head.

"Keep it; I have one of my own."

She shook her head.

"The past victors had luck, too," she muttered, holding the cantine against her chest, and then putting it with her pack and food.

"Actually I've just been taking supplies from those who don't need them anymore," he said, and then looked back at the fire. "I don't feel that lucky."

"You were the first at the Cornucopia, against Cassie's word mind you-"

"I wasn't as dazed as the others… it was just another mountain, another forest for me."

"You didn't feel blinded? Winded by the fresh air?"

He only shrugged.

"Ever since I saw the look on Leo's face, I knew that I had to get off the platform as quickly as possible."

"Leo?"

"He was a trainer at the gymnasium. He was working with spears. We practiced a lot together. He was there as I got ready. Gave me his final words of inspiration." Haymitch looked down.

"My Aunt was there."

Haymitch snapped his head up, completely thrown off.

"My family likes to take important roles; she's prominent in the Capitol. I hadn't seen her since I was maybe five, but she acted as though it was another regular brunch. Not that I was beaing lead to my death or anything…"

"You don't know that yet, May."

She sighed, and shook her head.

"We should get some sleep."

Haymitch only nodded as they both made their own beds and fell asleep to the Arena's night sounds.


	14. Chapter 14: Day 7

_Story hit the 1,000 views mark, and I can't be more excited! I wrote this story more for myself, it was fun and exciting to write, but I'm ecstatic that others are taking to it! THANK YOU._

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**CHAPTER 14: Day 7 (Part 1)**

_Eleven left._

Haymitch woke up with a start at a twitter of what he thought was a squirrel.

He looked down to find that Maysille was sleeping across from him; they were holding hands.

He hid a smile and then looked around, trying to keep his arm still. It was quiet except from the birds and a slight breeze flowing through the trees. He looked up and saw the sun was high in the sky, meaning it was just mid afternoon.

He had to keep moving.

Haymitch turned back to look at May. He stared at her calm face, not in fear or anger, but serenity. He lingered for a few more moments before he scooted in closer and reached over with his other hand to shake her shoulder lightly.

"May," he said loudly.

She groaned, and turned her face into her arm.

"May, wake up."

"No, no more chocolate, please," she groaned loudly, shaking her head.

His smile faltered. She was dreaming of home.

"Well I could sure use some chocolate right now, but figuring where we are that might be a problem," he said.

Maysilee's eyes flew open.

It took a second of confusion for her to realize where they were. She looked at him and the corner of her mouth twitched, but then she looked down at their hands and pulled back quickly, moving to a sitting position.

"Thank you, May," he said, reaching forward to hold her hand again. He smiled, gave her hand a squeeze and then let it go as he stood up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He shook out his legs and reached for his spear when he heard her mutter something.

"What?" he asked.

"We'd live longer with the two of us," she said, still quiet but prominent.

Haymitch fought to not smile. He only nodded.

"You surely proved that yesterday."

She shrugged, and then also stood up.

"We should keep moving," he said.

"What's wrong with here?" she asked, guarded.

"There are still eleven tributes left. And that volcano eruption drove them straight to the woods, right at us. Plus, I have an itch to see if there's an end to this arena."

"End?"

"It has to stop somewhere, right?"

She only tilted her head.

"I know this place is great, and comfortable, but I can tell you soon enough someone will come along. But these tributes have lived this long, who's to say they won't make it up the quarry like you can?"

She only frowned, looking around almost longingly at her camp.

He rested a hand on her shoulder. She flinched, but didn't push him away.

"Our best strategy is to keep moving."

She still stayed silent. Haymitch sighed, and started packing up the rest of his things. If she wasn't willing, he hated to think it, but he would leave her. He wanted to find out more about the arena. It wouldn't do any good to stay in one spot.

There was a large crash, as though the sound of a breaking tree branch. It was followed by laughter.

May's eyes grew big.

"Let's pack up and _go_," Haymitch whispered.

Maysilee only nodded and helped her pack up. They cut the rope she had made with bark, and they both held the branches to release them silently. She stuffed everything else into her smaller pack, and gave a quick glance around.

"What about the fire pit – my blood marks for the rocks?" she looked distraught.

"We'll have to leave it. Someone else might take this camp, we can circle around to check on it later if you want to," he said, tightening his straps and making sure his knives were secure in his boots. He stood up and held out a hand.

She looked to him, to his hand, and then all around her taking in the sights. Another boisterous laugh broke the morning silence, and she put her hand in his.

"You're the expert here, get us off this Quarry. We'll head that way," he said, motioning south his with head. She only nodded, squeezing his hand.

Then they began their descent down the quarry. Haymitch slipped and he sucked in a breath as he felt a searing pain against his calf. Maysille stopped and turned around, but he squeezed her hand back and shook his head.

"Keep moving."

She surprisingly did as he asked, this time pointing to each spot before her foot left it. They made it down quickly after that.

There was another laugh that broke the silence. Haymitch squeezed her hand tighter.

"Up for jogging?" he asked softly.

She frowned.

"Your leg," she said, but she stopped when she heard another laugh closer. "Okay fine. But we'll check that leg when we stop."

They jogged together, still holding hands, helping each other through rough brush, pulling at each other so they didn't trip.

"Stop! Haymitch stop!" she cried out when they reached grass and the thorny brush was no longer visible.

He did as she asked, feeling faint. He knelt down and sat against a nearby boulder, his breath short.

"Your leg! Ugh, you idiot!" he heard her say. He felt too drowsy.

"It was just a scratch," he muttered, his vision blurring.

She let out an angry yell.

"Your sock is soaked in blood!"

He felt hands flutter at his legs, pulling his pant-leg up his calf. He giggled at the soft touch that tickled him, but that was the last he did before the blackness overtook him.

"Wake up, idiot."

He shook his head, keeping his eyes closed. Why was his leg throbbing?

"It's been a few hours; you were the one to say we had to keep moving."

He opened his eyes. May was leaning over him, her hair tickling his ears. He grinned. She frowned. He reached up a hand to dazedly brush her cheek. She pulled back.

He blinked, and sat up. His right leg was bandaged up in gauze and the pant leg torn off.

"What…"

"You cut your leg on my quarry. Then insisted we run, pumping your blood faster, making you bleed out quicker. I was lucky enough to drag your heavy ass here before the others came."

He looked around. They were in a small, almost mock of a cave. There was barely any room under the rocks.

"How much food did you waste on me?" he asked, noticing he was feeling stronger that he should be after blood loss.

Her lips quivered.

"I cooked the rest of the squirrels. There were only three left; they were so skinny they barely gave any meat."

He sighed. She did the right thing – they were set to spoil any day.

"Good move," he said, smiling. Her worried look disappeared in a smile. "Did you have any at least?" he asked, moving his legs, testing them. The pain was bearable.

"Just a small tidbit. I couldn't help it, sorry. But we've both got a good supply left."

"Don't be sorry. You saved my life."

She grinned.

"That's number two to you. You should pick it up."

At that, she stood and looked around. She stretched, and knelt down again to meet his eye level.

"I heard their voices, but one of them was complaining of an ankle cramp or something, so they took a small break. I was able to drag you to cover before they saw us, but they haven't passed us. They're a loud bunch," she whispered.

He nodded.

"Let's keep going while they're at a standstill. I'll need to get used to the pain," he grumbled. He stood up, a small sharp pain shot up his leg, and he winced. He shook his head, and took another step. The next shot of pain wasn't as bad. "I'm ok. Let's keep moving."

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_As always, thank you for reading! Please spare a second or two to leave a quick review, thank you!_


	15. Chapter 15: Day 7 (Part 2)

**Chapter 15: Day 7 (Part 2)**

_Eleven left._

They had been walking for an hour or so when a cannon blast broke their comforting silence. Maysillee tripped and landed on her knees in the thorny brush. Haymitch reached forward to help her up, but she slapped his hand away.

"May?" he asked, kneeling down next to her. He laid a hand on her back, and she jumped, pulling away. Her fleeting eyes met his for a moment, but with a few more breaths she soon calmed down. But there was no mistaking her wet eyes.

"May," he said again, his finger grazing her cheek, wiping away a tear. She scowled at him and got up quickly.

"Shut up." She shifted her backpack, and brought her hair into a messy bun.

"Didn't say a word," he said. He stared at her for a second or two, and then grabbed one of her hands, bringing it close to see if she had cut her hands on the thorns. The one hand was unscathed and he looked to her other, which she moved quickly behind her back.

He raised an eyebrow.

"It won't event take a second to add some antiseptic…" he said slowly, frowning. An infection in this place probably killed in a few minutes, rather than a couple of days.

She frowned back, and then brought her hand out, a large bloody abrasion from her thumb to her wrist.

He brought out the cream and rubbed it on gently. She let out a sigh, and he added a few more deep massages with his thumbs before he drew back, hoisting his pack as he straightened up.

"Let's go," she said gruffly, walking quickly. He only shook his head, hiding a smile as he followed.

A few hours later of walking, Maysilee stumbled on a branch, the crack echoing around them. He stopped, and turned, frowning. She drew up short, mirroring his frown.

"What?"

"You're too loud."

"Excuse me?"

"Your footing, May," he said, looking down at her boots, the same as his, but surprisingly smaller. He looked her up and down, only now noticing how petite she really was. But she was still here, beating more than thirty other tributes to stay alive.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" her voice broke his thoughts. He shook his head.

"You need to be light on your footing. When you're running, just run, don't care about the noise, I know you're fast enough. But when you're walking like we are, you need to check your surroundings. Avoid branches, twigs, things that make noise. For your heavy step-"

"_Heavy?!_" she shrieked.

Haymitch jumped and brought his hand to cover her mouth. She only glared at him.

"Looks like we'll have to train that voice of yours too," he said, grinning while he shook his head.

Her tongue struck out, and he felt it graze the middle of his palm. He brought his hand back, surprised and thoroughly humored.

"Just… watch your step. The noise will bring other tributes right on your path. You don't want that."

"Why are you Cassie-ing me?"

"Sorry, what?

"You're being Cassie. You're mentoring me. We're still allies, it's not like you're dying. Why are you trying to teaching me?" she asked.

He sighed. He honestly didn't know why.

Fuck that, he did know.

He wanted _her_ to win. He knew his brother's skills, though rookie like, would help his family. But she had a sister, a _twin_ sister. Losing one's other half could break someone.

He only shook his head, and then shrugged, taking the least emotional way out.

"If you're my ally, I want a lighter step. Don't want you to bring unnecessary trouble my way."

She let out an exasperated sound, and continued forward in the general direction they were going. He noticed she didn't make that much noise as they walked.

They walked until the sun started setting. The trees were as thick as ever, and he thought that maybe the Arenas were endless during the games. Then perhaps the border was created to make the monument. That was his best guess; they were so deep into the forest, and there was no end.

The snapping of a twig drew him up short, and May bumped into him.

"What-" she started.

"Shh!"

They stood in silence. That snap had a short echo, meaning it was close-by. When Haymitch heard distinct yet faraway voices, he knew they were heading straight towards them.

"Trees. _Now_."

He ran and jumped to the nearest tree, grasping onto the branch and pulling himself up. He straddled the branch and looked around to see May still on the ground, standing still, looking up at him.

"May, c'mon! They're coming!" he hissed.

She brought out her bamboo stick, a feathered dart sticking out of one end. Haymitch shook his head, his heart beating quickly, actually afraid.

"No! Save those for when you need it! We can circle behind them, take them by surprise. Goddammit May, climb a tree now!" his whisper rose in volume.

She stood there, as though shocked into a frozen state.

"Just come here! Run and reach for my hand."

The voices drew closer.

"_May_!"

She then moved, faster than he expected. She sprinted towards him, kicking off the tree trunk to hoist herself up. When her fingers brushed his, he grabbed at her wrist and pulled up. She gave a grunt and swung herself up and onto the branch with him. She landed straight on top of him, the breath draining out of him at the impact. He gave a distressed noise, but kept it quiet as he heard the first voice.

"Did you hear that?" It was a guy. He came into view, his dirty blonde hair pulled back into a short ponytail. Haymitch frowned.

The last boy alive from District 1: Oren. Stacked with weapons; a bow slung over his shoulder, one hand holding a flail with two metal spiked heads as big as pumpkins. The other held an axe. His boots gleamed with proof of many knives. His quiver of arrows also sported a broken off spear.

"Mitch-" he heard May whisper. He turned his head and almost drew back at how close they were. He then noticed how she was plastered against him: chest to chest, her legs straddling him. He grinned, and brought his hand to rest a finger against her lips. Her cheeks grew pink.

"Shh, they'll leave soon," his voice barely audible. She gave a small nod. She only looked back as he stared at her.

"Hear what, Oren? I swear, you're becoming more paranoid by the hour," a whiny girl's voice broke their comfortable silence.

They both turned their heads to look down at the small crowd now forming. Haymitch counted five. The girl who spoke had choppy hair, as though someone had cut it with shears. It was bright red, he figured a shave would have been better; she stood out like a sore thumb.

District 2: Maya. Haymitch recalled her taking down two different trainers in hand to hand combat.

The other three, he didn't know who or what district. As though reading his mind, he heard May's small whisper right next to his hear, her breath brushing down his neck.

"Three, five, and eleven. All scored low. Five knows some camouflage; the other boy."

Haymitch nodded, his nose brushing her hair. He laid his head back against the tree trunk, taking in a deep breath.

She let out a small hum. "Don't do that," she whispered, again right into his ear.

His hands involuntarily rested on her waist as he looked back at her, her eyes inches away.

"Do what?" he lipped, worried about making noise. May frowned, and let out a breath. He then noticed that he felt her movement flat against his body. With a hum he felt his blood flow down, and he frowned as well. Now he knew what she was talking about.

"Should we set up camp?" one of the girls asked.

"No, stupid. This is the perfect spot for an attack."

Haymitch grinned. He noticed May was still holding her bamboo stick.

"Two -bright red hair- is excellent at hand to hand combat. Blonde boy with ponytail, he's district one. The last," he whispered.

He felt her whole body shiver, the movement reverberating against his body, making him take in another breath. He shouldn't be enjoying this as much as he was, considering the situation. She moved slightly, bringing a second dart out of her pocket as he suppressed a moan. She held the second dart flat against his chest as she brought the projectile to her lips, and aimed.

"Blondie first. He has the arrows," he implied. She gave a short nod, and took a short breath before bringing the bamboo to her lips. The dart flew out, landing right into Oren's throat. He gurgled white foam and fell over. Maysilee quickly loaded the other dart and that one landed in Maya's shoulder. After a second she keeled over too. The three others all scrambled in their step, looking around frantically.

"What should we do?" Maysilee whispered.

Haymitch looked at her, not bothered by their closeness anymore. Seeing the death of two kids the same age as him would render any boy's temptations moot.

"How many darts left?" he asked.

"Two."

He turned his head to the remaining three.

"You have exactly seven seconds to leave," he yelled out, disguising his voice in a theatrical dark tone.

They all jumped, one of the girls letting out a shriek.

"Seven… six… five…" he started. They all ran, giving small shrieks.

He waited a few more seconds before he turned back to Maysilee.

"I think we're good."

She nodded, and used the tree trunk to push herself back; separating their chests, her hips still nestled against his. He shook his head, more-so to himself.

"Should I go first?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes, and threw her other leg over to propel herself off the branch. She landed in a crouch, and stood up straight. She went right to Maya's body, who had the backpack.

Haymitch jumped down as well and took the weapons from Oren. Maysilee had just stuffed the last food into her already overstuffed pack when they heard the hum of the coming hovercraft to take the bodies away.

They ran together behind the trees, waiting until the mechanical sounds stopped and the hovercraft left. Haymitch let out a held in breath.

"I was never good with arrows, how about you?" he asked, weighing the steel bow with wooden detail in his hand.

Maysilee shook her head. He sighed, and tried to break the bow in half, but with no success. He climbed a nearby tree and hung the bow high in the branches, along with the quiver with arrows and the broken spear. He jumped down, and they both looked up, making sure the weapons were well hidden.

"What about this?" Maysilee asked, holding up the flail with obvious struggle. It looked heavy.

"That's gonna slow us down, drop it."

With a relieved sigh she did, and then motioned to her pack as she zipped it closed with a struggle.

"Some food packs and water. I grabbed a knife," she said, turning her boot to show the first addition to her boot straps. Haymitch worked on hiding the flail with broken branches and dirt. It was too heavy to hide in the trees.

"You good to go? We'll move in a different direction than the others."

She nodded, looking around warily.

"It'll be fine. We'll reach the edge… wait for the others…"

"Don't," she stopped him.

He raised an eyebrow. She was still denying the inevitable. He felt the same, but the nudging feeling to get as far as he could still grabbed at him more.

"Fine. Just keep going, we'll find a campsite when night falls."

They kept walking, and when the first stars peeked out in the sky, they found a large tree to set up camp. They harnessed the branches down to make a sort of shield, and rested against the trunk as they ate small portions for dinner.

"How did you find the bamboo and darts?" he asked.

She swallowed the last of the beef jerky, and shrugged. "I got to a backpack on the outskirts of the Cornucopia. It took me a while to figure out what it was."

"I probably never would've figured it out."

"I thought it was to make as a torture thing… I remember reading that the Asians would use bamboo splinters as a torture device – they would shove it under fingernails. I was fooling around with it and brought it to my mouth. The first dart flew out to hit a tree."

"Did they come with poison?" he asked, now intrigued.

She gave a half smile.

"Not really. I used some flowers to coat the tips. I used a rabbit as a test subject, it died within a few seconds. Then I found out that everything here can kill you."

He let out a laugh.

"Yeah, you can say that again."

She took a gulp from her canteen, and wiped a hand over her mouth.

"What about you, fighter boy? I saw you were good with a spear, but had no idea you could do hand to hand combat. You could've taken those three guys down yourself if they had no weapons."

He shrugged, feeling stupid at how the compliment affected him.

"More-so just luck with the weapons _I_ was lucky to have."

"Stop being modest."

"What?"

"Don't be so… indifferent to the compliment. You moved quickly, knew when to punch, stab, and duck. It was kind of scary, watching you."

He startled, watching her with wide eyes. She gave a snort.

"Please, as if I can be scared of you. The way you treated Maggie let me know who you really are," she continued.

He tilted his head.

"And what is that, exactly?"

"Not only a fighter, but a nice guy, too. Who would've thought?" she said, grinning. Before he could react, she yawned and lay down, using her backpack as a pillow. "You take the first watch."

He smiled, and watched as her breathing slowed and she fell into a deep sleep. He turned a knife around and around in his hand as he killed time, waiting for any noises to disturb them.

She whimpered, and he turned, frowning. Her face was scrunched up as she let out a small cry.

He dug in his pack and brought out one of the blankets. He spread it out and draped it across her small body, tucking it under her arms. She burrowed into the blanket, sighing in her sleep.

He sighed, taking a knife from his boot. He lifted the blanket at her feet, and slipped the blade into one of her boot straps; the first addition. He put the blanket down, tucking it under her boots.

He rested against the trunk, grabbing his bigger knife to rest in his hand. He listened to the music of the nightlife as he waited for the new day.

* * *

_Hope you enjoyed it! I'm almost finished with the story, but am delaying it since I loved writing this so much! There's a handful of chapters left, not to worry!_


	16. Chapter 16: Day 8

**CHAPTER 16 Day 8**

_Eight left._

"Hold on a second…" Haymitch said, slowing his steps. "Look."

As the first rays of sun peeked through the trees, Maysilee stirred awake. She looked confused at the blanket on top of her, then blushed and folded it quickly before she dropped it onto his lap.

"Get some sleep, I'll give you a few hours," she'd said. Haymitch had lay down and it only felt like five minutes before she was rousing him from his sleep. He had the same blanket draped across him. He'd only stared at her, keeping her gaze despite her blush as he folded the blanket. They got ready in silence and started walking, stealing glances at each other.

It was only when he had broke the silence did she see some kind of emotion cross her face. Fear.

He sighed, but looked at the berries all the same, grinning slightly to let her know it was nothing to worry about. They had the spiked leaves and same light purple color of the berries they had argued over in the training gymnasium.

"These are definitely poisonous!" Haymitch said mockingly in a girly voice. She smiled, and fingered the berries in her hand. The she picked one.

"Then you just-" she started, saying and doing what he did then, bringing the berry to her mouth.

"No! Everything else here is poisonous, why would this be an exception?" Haymitch said hurriedly, grasping her wrist tightly before she consumed one. She shook her head.

"Smell them," she said, raising it to his nose. He raised an eyebrow, but took a sniff. They smelled exactly like the berries in the –

"The Training Center," she finished his thoughts. "If they were poisonous, they would be a different odor, a darker or maybe even lighter color." She then broke off a branch from the bush, and handed it to him.

"Start eating… maybe you really will kick the bucket from bloat," she said smiling. His heart twitched that she also remembered their conversation back at the training center.

When he touched her fingers with his as he grabbed the branch of berries from her, he restrained from grinning. He noticed the pink in her cheeks, but didn't mention it as he grabbed a few more and popped them into his mouth.

He moaned at the sweet taste. He chewed and swallowed.

"Sweet, despite the thorns. Reminds me of someone…"

Her blush grew, and she grabbed the branch from him with force.

"Better stop while you're ahead. I'm the one with poisonous darts."

He only laughed, and May frowned, grabbing some more branches from the bush and walking away. He grabbed a few more, and followed, popping berries into his mouth, his smile impossible to contain.

Another canon blast interrupted the woods silence. He heard a screech of some animal and birds flew out of the trees, flying away in haste. He turned and saw Maysille leaning against a tree, her eyes closed.

"It's not close by. We haven't heard any others for a while," he said, hoping to calm her down, taking a cautious step towards her.

She waved her hand away.

"It's not that, just felt a little dizzy."

He smiled, admiring her strength to not show how the noise affected her. He brought his canteen from his pack, and held it forward.

"Take some of mine, I don't need it."

"Shut up," she mumbled, bringing forward her own canteen and bringing it to her mouth. She took a gulp, and put it back.

"Let's just keep going," he said, and continued walking. He heard her quiet step follow behind him.

"Why?" she asked after a minute or so. He ignored her.

Minutes later, she asked again. And she asked yet again a while later. She kept asking that one word until he stopped and turned.

"Why?" she asked again, a determined look on her face, her hands on her hips.

"Because it has to end somewhere, right?" he asked.

She tilted her head.

"The arena can't go on forever. We've read about the monuments. There has to be a perimeter."

She sighed, and shook her head.

"But what do you expect to find?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said truthfully. "But maybe there's something we can use," he said. "Get a one up on the others."

"One up? Haymitch, there isn't going to be more weapons at the edge. It's not extra storage space. Everybody knows the weapons are all in the Cornucopia."

"I know there won't be weapons…"

"Then what?" she asked, her voice rising. He stepped forward, brining a finger to his lips.

"I… I don't know what exactly I'll find. But I have this gut feeling. Haven't you had that? A feeling that you know was right, but might've seemed impossible, or wrong?"

Her eyebrow twitched, and she tilted her head.

"Let's keep moving," she said.

Haymitch smiled as they walked. When night fell, they dug a little under some thorny bushes, using the blankets to protect themselves. Since there was no need for cover, they whispered stories to each other to help fall asleep. Maysilee spoke of her mother's failed attempts at creating new candies. Haymitch told humiliating stories of failed hunts. They dozed off together, the crickets and owls giving the night music to drift them off to sleep.

* * *

_Love the feedback! I was writing this more for myself. Ever since reading Catching Fire, I was inspired by the small segment of Haymitch in the games so I decided to write this. I'm just so happy about the positive feedback, so thank you for reading and leaving reviews!_


	17. Chapter 17: Day 9

**Chapter 17 Day 9**

_Seven left._

"Haymitch…" someone was shaking him awake.

"Couple more minutes, Finn."

"Mitch! Please wake up!"

"Finn, I will punch you if you don't let me sleep a little more."

"It's May, you idiot!"

His eyes flew open.

She was leaning over him, her hair draping over and tickling his neck. She looked frightened. He glanced around. They were no longer under the thick thorny brush they fell asleep under. She must have pulled him out.

"They're really close. I think they've tracked us, Mitch."

He moved, and she leant back. They both stood up. That's when he heard a muffled laugh and a loud 'sush'.

"Get ready, there's no time to run," he said, bringing out his big serrated knife from its hip holster, the voices coming closer.

She nodded, bringing out the bamboo stick from her pack with one hand. She met his gaze, and he looked down at her boot. She looked down, and grabbed the knife. Then she did a double take.

"Did you-" she asked dazedly.

"Shh," he said, bringing a finger to her mouth. Her eyebrow twitched.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" a nasally girly voice broke the moment.

They both turned to find the three others left in the Career group. Three, five, and eleven.

They were all painted green, camouflage style to blend with the forest. The boy, Five, had the bow and arrows they'd left behind, the broken spear in his other hand. The two girls each had small knives.

"You've got two darts left?" he barely whispered to May.

She tapped his hand twice with her finger to say yes.

"Wait for my signal," he whispered a little louder. He squeezed her hand, and then brought out the spear into his other hand.

"A pair of rats from District 12!" one of the girls explained, giggling in delight.

"They probably hid in the mines, waiting it out like cowards," the other girl said.

Maysillee snorted.

"Please, we both have more kills than you probably do. Your clothes are too clean," she said, smiling.

They all looked angry at the obvious truth now in the open. Haymitch saw the boy grip his spear tightly enough to turn his knuckles white.

He stepped forward.

"I'm still trying to figure out how to do this," he said.

"Figure out what? How you two will die?" the boy said, spit flying from his mouth. Haymitch was lucky enough to be out of range.

"No, not that. I know how I'll kill _you_; I'm still torn about hurting girls though. I'm not sure I'd be able to do it, unless they attack first. I might break a bone, but you both look so tiny it will definitely be an accident. That's when May will come in, with her darts. I'm sure you've seen them before? The whole white gurgle mouth thing?" he asked, and glanced at May. She was spinning the bamboo around with her fingers, smiling. He couldn't help but grin.

"You?" one of the girls said, disbelieving.

"Me," May replied simply.

"So, Five. You ready?" Haymitch asked taking a dramatic stance hoping it would intimidate the boy. It did, the fear in his face was obvious. He dropped the broken spear and loaded an arrow into his bow and aimed right at him. His stance was shaky, the bow unsteady.

Haymitch smiled.

"I'm going to let you re-evaluate your choice of weapon. Are you sure you want to use that? It's not a puppet; the objective is to keep it still," he continued, now having fun. Their reactions were priceless, and he could even hear May suppress a laugh.

Haymitch watched the boy's gaze turn dark, and he moved his aim to Maysilee. The bow and arrow shook even more in the boys hands. Haymitch stepped in front of May, right in the boys aim. Haymitch was able to predict when he would let go. As it neared him he moved, swinging his spear to knock the arrow off course, landing on the ground. However he looked down to see the spearhead had managed to cut his arm.

"Mitch!"

He turned to look at May, shaking, either with fear or anger, he wasn't sure.

Her eyes grew wide.

"Mitch!" she repeated.

He turned around, just in time to watch the boy punch his gut with the weakest pressure, it might as well been a tap.

He frowned.

"Now you've made me angry."

He stepped forward, and the boy stumbled back but held up his fists. Haymitch shook his head, and landed a quick right hook on his nose. He heard the crunch of bones breaking as the boy shrieked and fell down, his hands on his face.

He heard a female cry, and turned in time to block a weak punch. He moved his foot and swept her legs, making her fall over.

"Now," Haymitch said his foot landing on the girl's hand that held the knife. A second later a dart sank into her neck and the white foam appeared in her mouth. Haymitch turned to the last one standing, the girl from eleven, just as the first canon blasted.

"The tree hobo calls us rats? Have you ever been down a mine? No place to hide," he said, still angry. She shook, and held her hands up.

"Please, I- I just… this is all so scary-" she was cut off by a dart hitting her chest. She fell down, choking on the white foam spilling from her mouth.

The second cannon blasted.

He looked towards the boy, the last one alive, stumbling to stand up, blood dripping down his face, soaking his clothes. The first blood stains.

He walked backwards, but stumbled and tripped. Haymitch ran forward and grabbed him. He cried out, but Haymitch ignored it as he twirled the boy's body, and locked the boy's hands behind him.

"You want to do the honors?" he asked. He heard a sob come from the boy, but looked at May. She looked scared. He waited a second or two before he spoke again.

"At least a punch. I bet you've never punched somebody before."

She tilted her head, a slow smile showing. She walked forward, her fingers flexing.

She brought her right hand into a fist, and just went for it, throwing her hand forward. It hit between the guy's eyes. He moaned, and his body loosened its restraint.

"Agh! That one hurt!" she said, holding her hand as she walked in a circle.

"Tuck your thumb in, try again," Haymitch said, almost yelling over the boy's cries.

She stopped, her hands falling.

"Why are you-"

"Are you going to punch him or not? I can end it now if you like," he said, pulling a long and pointy knife from his boot, bringing it to the boy's heart.

She shook her head. He put the knife back into his boot, and held the boy as he watched Maysille approach again.

She tucked her thumb in this time as she brought her hand into a fist. She gave an under-hook this time, hitting him in the gut. He moaned momentarily, but then started laughing.

"This bitch hits like a little girl."

Maysilee frowned then. She looked down, and turned away.

"Does the bitch cry tears?" he continued. Haymitch tightened his grasp and twisted the boys arm the wrong way, making him cry out.

"And you cry like a little baby. Typical," Haymitch spat.

"I'm just sorry you have to deal with this thing. Incapable bitch. I won't even bruise from those punches," he said.

Maysilee stopped walking around, and knelt down. She came back up with Hatmitch's large serrated knife, which he had dropped during the fist to fist fight.

"Any last words? Something for the cameras, maybe?" she asked, taking a few steps forward, the knife glinting on the sunlight.

The boy spat out some blood.

"I'd rather it be a man than a little girl," he said. Haymitch twisted the boy's arms again.

"That's too bad," she said. And without warning, she drew her arm up and _threw the knife. _It flew straight at them; Haymitch could only watch as it flew towards him.

It landed in the boy's chest, the blade sinking in quickly. He felt the body go limp, and quickly dropped it.

He took the blade out, wincing at the suction noise, and cleaned it on the boy's pants before putting it back in its holster.

He then turned to May.

"What the fuck?!" he yelled, walking towards her.

"What?" she asked, stepping forward to close the distance.

"You_ closed_ your eyes as you threw! You know the importance of AIM, right?!"

"I didn't miss! And what were you doing, stepping into his aim with the arrow?" she said angrily, hitting his chest with a fist. He let out a grunt, and then breathed in, noticing how close they were.

"Why did you do that?" she asked.

He couldn't answer; he could only look at her.

She hit his chest again, repeating the question. She then continued hitting him, until he had to take over and embraced her in a bear hug. She was shaking.

"What if you had missed, May? I would be gone… what would have happened then?"

She pulled away, and took a few deep breaths, her back to him. He reached out and grabbed her wrist to turn her around.

"I would've killed him off as well!" she said, glaring at him as she closed the distance again.

He sighed, and leant forward, resting his forehead against hers. He heard her take in a surprised gasp, but kept still, their breaths mingling, his eyes closed.

'I need to get you to the final three. I can help you then,' he thought, breathing her in, his hand absentmindedly rising to rest on her on her hip.

She gasped and drew back unexpectedly. He frowned, and the look on her face told him he had said his thought out loud.

"Haymitch-" she started, but the whir of a hovercraft made them both look up as it descended into the clearing, the wind strong. His hand on her hip squeezed as he yelled out.

"Get their bags, I'll get the weapons!"

The hovercraft let out a small blast of a horn, and they both moved quickly, grabbing everything they could quickly and running away just in time as the claw came out.

They leant against a big tree, facing away from the hovercraft, catching their breath as they waited for it to leave.

As the sound of the whir faded away, May dropped the bags and opened all of them. She let out a disgruntled cry as she grasped at leaves, dirt, and twigs that filled each bag. There was only one canteen to salvage.

Haymitch had to fight for her to keep the canteen and the two knives the girls were holding. The bickering only made him miss her more even though they were together. He wasn't sure he would've made this far without her.

"You're giving me that look again. It needs to stop," she said. He blinked.

"Just planning schemes… the usual. Let's keep moving."


	18. Chapter 18: Day 10

**Chapter 18 Day 10**

_Four left._

The branches got thicker as they continued. They hacked away at it with their knives, but then opted to just climb over, using the blankets to cover the thorny brush.

They finally broke through to a clearing, the trees and all green life stopping at an eerily straight line, giving way to a large dirt clearing, ending at a cliff. Beyond was all barren, just dirt, dust, and jagged rocks.

This was it. The end of the Arena.

They both stood there, breathing heavily, catching their breath.

"Well," May broke the silence with a sigh. "That's all there is, Mitch. Let's go back," she said, turning to climb back onto the brush.

"No," he said sternly. She stopped to turn back and stare at him confused.

She drew a shaky breath.

"All right. There's only four of us left," her voice broke, and she took another deep breath. "Might as well say goodbye now, anyway," she turned away and her voice sounded shaky too. "I don't want it to come to you dying for me."

"May," he said, walking around to face her, catching a glimpse of her wet eyes before she shook her head and turned away, again.

"I… can't Haymitch."

"May," he said again, trying to find other words to say. She pulled away.

"I can't do this. With only a few left. "

As though on que, a cannon blasted.

_Three left._

Well, at least he got his wish. He walked over to her as a tear fell from her cheek as she took a shuddering breath. He wiped it away with his thumb. She shivered.

"Let me go, Mitch."

He let out a growl, followed with a string of curses.

"You need more darts, we can-"

"No, I have to go. You need to understand-" she started.

"Don't."

She shook her head.

"Goodbye, Haymitch."

"No. Mitch. I like it."

She gave him a broken smile.

"Goodbye, Mitch," she said, tears now streaming down her face.

"Bye, May," he whispered. She gave a final nod before she turned away and climbed over the brush, taking the blanket with her, all the while being silent. He grinned at that. She'd learned.

He watched her as she went out of sight, and then he watched some more.

He sighed, and looked back out at the cliff, taking deep breaths to keep in control.

He walked over, skirting against the edge of the cliff as he looked down. It was an abyss, the edge clearing into darkness. He slipped, and a small edge of the cliff broke off. He stumbled and fell backwards, scrambling away from the edge.

He sighed, and shook his head.

It was disappointing. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but he thought it would be more than just a cliff. Maybe some force shield that he could use.

But it was nothing.

He sat there, taking in deep breaths as he accepted the inevitable. He would have to find the last one alive before he crossed paths with May again. And he would have to lose. He was done for. He was surprised it only had hit him now, and not when he formed the alliance with May.

He heard a large sucking sound, making him falter. Then there was a small beep, and gust of wind. Suddenly the rocks of the broken cliff flew back up, as though thrown. The rocks and dust scattered around him as he brought his hands up to shield himself.

A last rock hit his hand. He watched as it scattered to a stop near his leg. Puzzled, he stood as he picked it up. He threw it back over the cliff.

A few seconds later, the sucking sound came back. Another beep, a gust of wind, and the rock came flying back at him. He brought out his hand in time and caught it.

He stared at the rock, then to the edge of the cliff, and started laughing in triumph.

This was something he could use. There really was something at the edge of the arena.

He nodded to himself, a smile creeping in as he threw a few more rocks over to confirm his theory.

The noises echoed with each other and after a big gust of wind, the rocks were flying back at him. He ducked in time, laughing.

He took a tentative step towards the cliff when he heard a scream.


	19. Chapter 19: Day 10 (Part 2)

**Chapter 19: Day 10 (Part 2)**

_Three left._

_He took a tentative step towards the __cliff, to test the boundary, when he heard a scream…_

He faltered.

It could be May… but they broke their alliance.

The next scream was longer.

He tensed. He had a feeling… he knew it was her.

"May!"

They broke alliance- but he couldn't ignore her screams.

"May!" he yelled out again. He slung his backpack on, leaving the spear but sliding his larger knife in its holster as he ran to the brush. He grabbed the blanket left and used it to climb over the thorns, the small screams giving him motivation to move quickly. He jumped over the edge and ran.

There was another scream, this one prominent and long.

"May!" he yelled out again, giving a grunt as he picked up his run to a sprint.

He came into a clearing and saw her fighting off large pink birds the size of ducks. They had sharp beaks, and all he could see was blood. He yelled out, getting the attention of a few of them. He sliced through their bodies with his knife and spear as they attacked him, giving out squawks as they fell to the ground. He yelled and killed the rest surrounding her body. The ones left in fright.

As they flew away from the clearing, he got a good view of her bloody body on the ground, the tall grass surrounding her.

"May, no!" he yelled, finally dropping to his knees next to her on the ground.

"Oh, Mitch! Thank god," she whispered, reaching a hand ot to him, landing on his cheek. He grabbed it and held her palm against his face.

"May… you were going to win - you can't die…"

She shook her head, closing her eyes tightly. Her other hand left the bleeding wound on her neck and reached for him. He held her hand tightly, but only for another second before he reached and held his hand over the wound, applying pressure.

"Oh god May, I'm so sorry," he said softly, refraining from the tears that threatened to come. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers, their noses nestling together, lips barely apart. "I should have made you stay," he whispered.

"No, that would have made it worse. This was meant to be," she said, gasping.

"Not this! Not you getting bested by mutts… not me seeing you like this," he said angrily, running a gentle hand down the side of her face and cupping her cheek.

"It's my fault… don't worry."

"What could you have possibly done wrong-"

"I was too loud…" she said shakily.

He shook his head vigorously.

"I didn't mean it, May! I just wanted to get you to lighten your step; your feet were just attracted to twigs that one day-"

"I was crying… that's what drew them…" she said, looking ashamed, turning her head to look away. He grabbed her chin to make her look at him.

"Why were you crying, May?"

More said tears streamed down her face, cleaning the blood from her cuts.

"I knew I had to leave you… but I… " she said slowly and shakily.

Haymitch couldn't take it anymore. He didn't care if the cameras caught it; he didn't care if their story was drawn out and overdramatized.

He leaned down and kissed her. Not as passionately as before they went to the arena, but it was enough to still his heart. Her lips were cold.

He felt the first tear fall. Down his nose, then drip onto her face.

"Oh, god," he whispered against her lips. He turned away from her, trying to find something to throw, to get this anger out, but she grasped his hand. He turned back to her. She was now white as ever, shivering, crying, and yet still smiling up at him.

"Mitch, it was never me… it's going to be you-"

"How can I? This is so…" he faltered, and leaned down to give her another slight kiss. She let out a happy sigh, and she gripped him tightly.

"I know, but we knew that when we heard our names, right?"

"What, that we were going to become heartbreak kids who both died in the arena?" he asked.

She brought a weak hand to his neck, and then moved her hand to dig her fingers into his hair.

"No, Mitch," she whispered.

She reached her other hand to his face so they locked gazes. They were both crying silently, tears streaming down their faces, the dirt and blood clearing away.

"Only one of the heartbreak kids will die in the arena. Mitch… you need to win, you deserve it more than anybody else…

"Not me! You can't leave your sister…"

"She knows, Mitch."

"What?"

"Twins do have a weird bond. When either of us is feeling nauseous, or sad. She knows I'm at the end, you just need to accept it too…"

"No," he said softly, and feeling selfish, he brought their foreheads together again so their lips brushed.

"Don't…" she gasped. He pulled back a few inches. "Just… I hate to ask you, but… stay with me?" she whispered.

He gave a shuddering sigh, and pulled her up against him, cradling her in his arms.

"If I could, I would've have grabbed you at the reaping and run away," he barely whispered.

"We wouldn't have gotten past the guards."

"I would've fought them. And then everybody else would've joined in. We all could've escaped…"

"It's too late."

"Don't you think I know!" he started angrily, but stopped talking. He sighed; another shudder ran through his body.

"Thank you, Mitch," she cried, her body now shaking, getting colder in his arms. He squeezed her tight, tucking his face in her neck to hide his face as he cried.

He cried harder as he felt her body go limp and grow colder. He soon calmed himself down, the tears drying, and he pulled back. He laid her down on the ground and crossed her hands over her stomach. He bent over and kissed her forehead, his eyes squeezed shut.

He heard the low whir of the hovercraft approaching.

He got up and walked to the edge of the clearing. He stood and watched as the hovercraft came down, the claw descending from its middle as it gingerly picked up her lifeless body. The hovercraft flew away as the claw retracted back.

He rubbed his hands over his face, and shook his head. Now he had to win. For her, for Finn, his mom.

He had to get back to the edge, maybe wait out as the last tribute got themselves killed. He had to get back to the border, his original plan.

* * *

_Thank you for reading, please leave a review! Anonymous is okay if that's your thing._


	20. Chapter 20: Day 11

_Hello all! Glad to see the views, sad to see no reviews!_

* * *

**Chapter 20 Day 11**

_Two left._

Haymitch aimlessly wandered around, trying to clear his thoughts and get his head in the game. Whoever was left, he would have to kill them. He should be used to it, but the way the others had treated him, he didn't even feel remorse about it.

But his last kill would have to be cold, unfeeling.

Nightfall came quicker than expected, and he was too far to make it to edge, so he climbed a tree and slept, just like he did the first few days.

A nightmare of May, blood dripping from her eyes as she asked him to help her jarred him out of his sleep. It was now morning, the sun peeking through the trees.

The snap of a twig made him jump, and he turned his head towards the sound. His heart stopped and he frowned at the sight of Remy walking near the tree.

He didn't expect her to make it… he had stopped watching the faces of the fallen that were projected each night, and he figured she had died during the volcano eruption.

He definitely didn't have a chance. He stopped breathing, hoping she would move on.

She had one knife in her boot, bloody cuts that looked fresh and infected on her arms, a large axe in her hand, no backpack, and a wide grin.

"Too bad about your girlfriend, 12."

He sighed. Of course she saw him, or heard him. He sighed, and jumped down.

"Who's to say I didn't lead her to their nest?" he said, straightening his shirt. She smiled.

"That kiss said something otherwise."

He fumed. He let his guard down and didn't even notice he was being followed, being watched.

"I would say sorry," she continued, "but I've only been killing other girls, they're easier. A boy as my first and last kill will make the victory sweeter, don't you think?" she asked.

"Funny, I was thinking the same about you."

Her smile flickered, and he noticed her knuckles turn white on the handle of the axe. He brought out his large serrated knife, and stood, waiting.

She took a step forward, as did he. They did that until they were standing only a foot away.

"Ready to die, 12?"

"Not really. But this should be fun."

With a battle yell, she swung her axe forward. It gave him enough warning to lean back, and he brought his hand down, cutting her arm, blood spurting out as she yelled and dropped her axe. As she staggered back, he kicked the weapon away. She lifted her leg and grabbed her knife from her boot which she swiped at him quickly, getting him across the chest, the searing pain making him grunt.

She threw a punch to his face and then his gut with her free hand, and he punched back but she dodged every blow. He swung his hand with the knife, and felt it cut more skin; she cried out again.

With no warning she threw herself to the ground and did a roll, standing up quickly at his side, throwing her arm and sinking her small knife in his stomach, making him yell out. She pulled her arm, and the terrible pain made him yell again as he heard a gross suction sound and he suddenly felt lighter. He felt small hands on his neck and head, and laughed. She actually thought she could snap his neck?

He reached behind him and grabbed her body, bending down to throw her over and onto the ground. She groaned, and then yelled out when he landed a kick to her shoulder, another to the side of her stomach.

He staggered back, reaching to his stomach. He felt something squishy and long protruding from it. His head felt lighter, and without thought he tucked whatever it was – he refused to look down – back into his body.

Stupidly, Remy let out another battle cry before her attack, and he managed to duck just in time as she swung her knife again. As he straightened, he threw a punch to her chin, her head snapping back. With his knife he swung at her face, cutting across her nose and hitting her right eye.

She screamed and he kicked her legs, making her fall. She did the same to him, and he fell down with a grunt, his head getting lighter as it hit the ground. He felt weight on his stomach, and groaned as he opened his eyes in time for her to land a punch on his jaw. He brought his knife forward and stabbed her body, once on the stomach, twice on one leg.

She yelled and grabbed his hand, tearing the knife out of her body and throwing it away. He reached up with a hand to push his thumb into her eye. She screamed, and he tried to reach for his boot for his other knife, but she landed a well placed punch on his Adams apple.

He took in a breath, choking, and brought up his knee to hit her on the back. She came forward, and he butted his head against hers, taking her momentary stun to shove her away and roll over, leaving her on the floor alone.

He stumbled to stand up, groaning as more blood spilled onto the hand he held against his stomach. He left the knife, knowing it was lost in the grass, and rushed as best he could for the border of the arena.

A good sized rock… maybe if he threw her over the side she wouldn't come back.

He heard her curse and scream at him, and he quickened his pace, climbing over the thorny brush, not bothering with the blanket. He felt pain at his hand and knees, but kept going; Remy's following screams and yells giving him motivation. He reached the edge of it and fell off the brush, groaning as the hard dirt ground met him.

"Come back, coward! There's nowhere to hide now!" he heard her scream.

He stood and stumbled towards the edge, his head lighter, barely able to stand.

He started seeing things pass his eyes, knowing the end was near. Finn after he took him on his first hunt, holding up a dead squirrel with a big smile. His mom hugging him tightly, giving words of love and comfort. Maysilee, smiling at him as they walked through the arena, as though they were back at home, walking in the woods past the border fence.

"There you are!" he heard, and he shook his head and turned to Remy limping towards him, axe back in her hand.

He stumbled back, keeping an eye on her as he reached the edge. If he could lure her over… it would be an easy push. If she flew back, the fall would probably kill her, or mangle her enough for him to finish the job easily.

She took a few steps towards him, smiling grotesquely as blood flowed from her left eye socket; he couldn't see anything but blood and pink skin.

She didn't give anymore words. She just raised her hand, and threw the axe. He ducked in time and it flew past him, flying over the cliff's edge.

He collapsed, praying, hoping that it would work. He smiled at Remy's face, now standing there weaponless. He reached to his boot, and brought out his last knife, small and useless.

She smiled, and when he raised his hand, ready for an attack, she laughed. He fell over on his side, feeling faint enough to barf, his body shaking uncontrollably. He let his hand go from his stomach, and heard a liquid spurt. Remy laughed harder.

Then Haymitch heard a whooshing sound, and a beep.

He grinned.

He only watched as he heard the blade cut through air, the axe revolving and heading straight towards Remy. She could only widen her eyes as she watched her own weapon fly back at her and bury itself in her head.

Haymitch closed his eyes, hearing her limp body fall to the dirt ground, and a cannon blast soon after.

He opened his eyes as he moved his body and fell onto his back, looking up at the blue sky with the intricate green grid as he started laughing/crying. He didn't even notice it until he felt the wet drop roll down his cheek.

He heard the sound of a hovercraft, and stopped, turning his head. Instead of going for him, it quickly picked up Remy's body with haste, and flew away.

There was a split second of eerie silence before the trumpets blasted.

"Ladies and Gentleman, the Victor of the Second Quarter Quell, the 50th Hunger Games, Haymitch Abernathy!"

He closed his eyes again, taking small breaths.

He made it. He actually made it.

He heard yet another hovercraft – god he hated that sound now – and opened his eyes to see a crowd of men in white uniforms swarm around him. He felt something poke his neck, and he accepted the white light that filled his vision as he knocked out.

* * *

_As always, thank you for reading, but please take a second to leave a review!_


	21. Chapter 21: The Victor

**Chapter 21: The Victor**

"_Ladies and Gentlemen, the Victor of the Second Quarter Quell, the 50__th__ Hunger Games, Haymitch Abernathy!"_

_He closed his eyes again, taking small breaths. _

_He made it. He actually made it._

_He heard yet another hovercraft – god he hated that sound now – and opened his eyes to see a crowd of men in white uniforms swarm around him. He felt something poke his neck, and he accepted the white light that filled his vision as he knocked out._

He blinked his eyes open, his vision straight yet blurry. He blinked a few more times as his vision went into focus, and heard a gasp.

"Oh, god! He's awake! HE'S AWAKE!"

"Jesus, Cass, not so loud," he groaned. He heard his mentor laugh.

"That's more like it kid. You're definitely not the one to sleep all day."

"Day? What's happening?"

"You won… you know that right? Haymitch, what you did out there-"

Without warning Cassie was pushed away and a man in white scrubs and facemask loomed over him, poking his body, checking his vitals. He cursed the man as he tirelessly checked his body.

With a final nod the man stood straight.

"All clear. Victor is 100 percent up to par," he said into his watch.

"Good, you can leave now," Cassie said, pushing him back. He glared at Cassie, but left silently.

"So, Haymitch, where do you think you are right now?"

"Probably in the Capitol. Like you said, I won, so that means my terrible nightmare is actually reality. Did I miss anything?" he asked, now looking at Cassie full on. Her eyes were wet. He frowned.

"Haymitch… what you did out there… I can't even begin to-"

"Please not now. Actually, not ever, okay? Just… get me the hell out of here. Is my family here? Can I see Finn?"

Cassie shook her head.

"Family reunion is always back at the Victor's District. There's the interview, the parade and you'll be on your way home."

"Fine. Then let's get this all over with. If you tell Cara to keep her voice to a low volume, she can help me prepare."

* * *

First off there was the exiting interview, which he did blindly, not remembering much since he'd had half a bottle of scotch in the morning with breakfast.

He found that the drink drowned out his nightmares and flashbacks of the Arena. Which happened every night, and all the time.

Everybody was silent towards him now. At first, they greeted him with enthusiasm and congratulations, but after he sent a worn-out glare their way, they shut up; which he much preferred. He didn't see the whole thing as him being a victor, or a winner. He just… he had to do what he did. It's not like he enjoyed it, like Remy had seemed to.

Mackie dressed him for the parade quietly, and walked him to the chariot, the same one he rode during the introductory parade with the tributes. There was no one else around, and Mackie held his shoulders tightly.

"I will never forget you Haymtich, and I'm not just saying that. Watching you… a fighter with pure compassion, was nothing like I've seen before. The first girl you came across… then Maggie… the boys and the butterfly… and the alliance with-"

"Get to the point-" he snapped.

She frowned.

"Enough of that shit, Haymitch. You need to put on a great smile now, or the Capitol will give you a problem you don't want to deal with. On top of the force field fiasco-"

"Fiasco?!"

"Haymitch! Get on that chariot NOW!" Clara shrieked, interrupting them. Haymitch jumped up and held the reigns tightly to balance himself.

"Mackie-"

"Smile, kid! Goddammit, just SMILE!" she said before the horses starting trotting, leading him into a roaring crowd. He reached the podium, and got off, smiling the whole time. He looked at President Lannis as he shook his hand, and felt eerily off at the look the man was giving him. It reminded him of Remy's gaze.

Unflinching, merciless, and out for blood.

Haymitch stood there absentmindedly, focusing on keeping his legs straight and staying chipper and happy, as Mackie had advised.

As President Lannis laid the victor's crown on his head, the President leant forward and only whispered

"Smile while you still can."

* * *

He was sitting on the sofa, absentmindedly watching the forest scene May liked, his eyes tracking flies, rats, or the occasional bird.

"Hey, kid."

He turned and watched Cassie come to stand next to him.

"Hey," he returned.

"Up on the roof, come on," she said, grabbing his arm tightly. She dragged him to the elevator despite his protests, opened a hidden panel on the side under the buttons, and pressed in a code onto a small keypad. The elevator shot up quickly, and the doors opened on the roof, all clean concrete.

"What the hell, Cassie?" he said, pulling from her grip and walking near the edge, gasping at the amazing view of the Capitol. So many colored lights, differently shaped buildings all shiny and clean; with no sight of natural green, not a tree in sight.

"First off, you did good kid."

"Well, yeah, there's only one winner, right?" he said. His mouth felt dry after finishing his second bottle of wine for the night.

Tomorrow he was going home.

"Secondly, you fucked up, kid."

He stopped, and turned to a frowning Cassie.

"What?"

"That thing with the border, using the cliff… they're pissed, Haymitch."

"What? Why? They made the arena didn't they?"

"Not with intention for someone to reach the end! It's the same forcefield they use on this roof. Throw your body over, and you come right back up. The thorny brush was meant to dissuade you from going any further; nobody was supposed to find it."

"I still don't understand what-"

"They see it as you exploiting a weakness. You won in a way that showed the Capitol doesn't have control in the games. You showed they aren't all great an powerful as they put on. For the Capitol… they don't play nice with those who show their weaknesses."

He sucked in a big breath.

"Shit," he breathed out.

"Yeah, my thoughts exactly. Haymitch… you gotta clean your act up for right now. When you get home, they leave you alone, that's until the victory tour, but that's later. For now… you need to kiss some serious ass."

"President Lannis… he told me to smile while I still could… is he going to hurt my family? Finn, my mom? Will they retaliate against May's family-"

"Not unless you play stupid. You did well with that for the exiting interview, but you need to keep playing it. You didn't know that the axe would come back. Yes, the rocks came back, but say something stupid, like you thought only lighter objects could come back up or something. Using that force field made them look stupid, something to laugh at. You need to turn the attention away from that, and sadly, onto you."

He sighed.

"Can you do that, Mitch?"

His head snapped around, his eyes glaring.

"Never call me that. _Nobody_ gets to call me that."

Cassie's eyes widened, but she nodded.

"Okay. But Haymitch, can you do-"

"Just get Clara to help me with the questions, I can be a puppet for a while I guess."


	22. Chapter 22: Home

**Chapter 22: Home**

Clara and Cassie's advice helped. He played stupid as people asked him questions on the walk to the train.

"I thought only something as light as the rocks would come back over. I really was ready for the end; I just knew I couldn't go down without a fight, that's why I tried with my knife."

"I thought it was faulty. I thought if I could bring her to the edge, I might push her over, nice and clean."

"Force field? I thought it was just the wind bringing the rocks back up. They're light enough."

It worked well; people snickered at him, shaking their heads, but leaving it alone.

Mackie and Cassie both shook his hand and gave a final nod, both wearing never before seen smiles. Haymitch had said the goodbyes back at the Penthouse. They both had gotten teary, which freaked Haymitch out.

"See you at the victory tour, Haymitch," Mackie said. Haymitch nodded and stepped onto the train, the doors closing behind him.

It was the food cart, the same he had boarded when he was on his way to the Capitol. Then, there were three others to keep him awkward and silent company.

Now he was alone.

He walked to the drink cart, picking a random purple liquid and pouring himself a generous glass.

He had just rested in the chair when he heard a door slide open.

"Can you give me an hour, Cara, I need some time to prepare myself."

"For what, exactly?"

President Lannis.

Haymitch fought not to jump in his seat, but managed to turn his head and watch as the Capitol President walked to the drink cart, chose himself a brown drink and poured himself a much smaller glass than his own.

Dressed in a blue and green pinstriped suit, his night black hair slicked back and down his neck, ending at his shoulders, he had an air of violence and power as he came and sat across from Haymitch.

"Mr. Abernathy," President Lannis said, his voice dripping with charm, a continuous grin on his face.

"President Lannis, what a lovely unexpected surprise! Here to talk tactics with me? Half of the time I didn't even know what I was doing. I just had the better weapons, really."

The president only smiled some more, watching Haymitch squirm as he sipped his drink. Haymitch took a big gulp of his own.

"That's quite a drink you've got there. Even I can't really handle it."

He shrugged, taking another gulp.

"Tastes like chicken," he replied.

The President's smile grew wider, and Haymitch swore he heard a chuckle.

"Mr. Abernathy, we have a problem."

His heart skipped a beat, but he mirrored the president's relaxed posture.

"And what might that be?"

"You're little… trick with our border force field makes a mockery of the games. A mockery of me." His eyes grew dark, his smile staying still.

"Sir, I didn't even know-"

"That's crap, and we both know it. What is your angle, Mr. Abernathy?"

"Angle?"

"Did you think to start a rebellion? Giving ideas to future tributes to escape?"

"Sir, I didn't-"

"We all know what happened at the last rebellion. And the one before that, the one before that. Surely you paid attention in History. It's an important subject."

Haymitch sighed. He put his drink on a nearby table, trying to hide his shaking hand.

He leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees to look the President right in the eye.

"President Lannis, you can look right at me and know I'm not lying when I didn't have any hidden agendas when I used the border. I was insistent about it because I knew it could be a good hiding place – no other tributes go that far. And when I found out about the whole force field, I knew I could use it as a weapon of sorts. I didn't know that it would come to this… I played stupid for your sake-"

"Of course I know that, Cara and Cassie are the best at what they do. Keeping the tributes in line. It seemed that you were too much of a wild card."

"Sir, I have no intention of what you are thinking. I just want to go home, and live peacefully with my mom and brother. I have no rebellions on my mind, I sweat. I will put on my mask again for the Victory Tour, and then that is the last you will hear of me."

"That is where you are wrong, Mr. Abernathy. Now that you are a victor of District 12, you are to be the mentor for the rest of the upcoming games until another one comes along."

Haymitch stopped, frowning. He grabbed his glass and took a big gulp, coughing lightly.

"Therein lies our problem. I need to be certain enough that you won't raise trouble with me, or my capitol."

"You can be certain, sir," Haymitch started, but then he felt the train slowing down, and then stopped.

President Lannis stood up, finishing his drink, and putting the glass on the table. He straightened his suit, brushing his arm.

"Your word is not enough, Mr. Abernathy. You will be seeing me soon."

At that he left. A few seconds later, the train started moving again. Haymitch chugged the rest of his drink. He stood up to get more, but tripped over his feet and fell down. He groaned and moved onto his back, staring up at the impeccable metal ceiling above him, giving him a distorted reflection.

He stayed that way, unmoving, unthinking, until Cara burst in to prepare him for the coming home event.

* * *

The train started slowing down, and Haymitch felt his heart beat faster. Cara didn't fail to mention a dozen times that he was the first victor of District 12… everybody would be there to welcome him home.

Would President Lannis punish his District?

"_Your word is not enough…"_

Would he punish his family?

"It's time, Haymitch!" Clara said excitedly. He sent her a disgusted look and he swore he saw her smile falter for a split second before she stood up, bright face back in place. He stood as well as the train came to a stop.

"Smile! And remember what Cassie said-"

"Got it," he interrupted as he walked to the doors.

He took a deep breath before they opened, and was blinded by flashes and a large roar of a crowd. He blinked and stepped down onto the platform, smiling and raising a hand to wave.

His eyes adjusted and he saw everybody, all crammed as close as they could get. The crowd was endless.

He looked to the front, and his hand faltered as he spotted his mom and brother, cheering and jumping up and down. Nearby, he spotted Mrs. Donner, the genius chocaltier. Then his heart stopped, and his hand fell.

It was May. Smiling awkwardly and cheering along with the crowd, watching him intently.

Her gaze wasn't like May's…

Of course it wasn't her… she died in his arms. It was Miriam.

"Haymitch!" he heard a snap behind him. He raised his hand again and waved some more, smiling as the crowd continued to cheer. His eyes wandered over everybody, and he did a double take as he noticed President Lannis, standing on the sidelines, grinning evilly. He turned his head, and motioned with his head.

Haymitch looked to here he pointed, and smiled brighter as he noticed his mom and Finn, crying openly and jumping up and down as they waved and cheered.

Haymitch's eyes flitted back to President Lannis. He shook his head, and then turned and disappeared into a blockade of Peacekeepers.

He looked back to his mom and Finn, feeling his own tears coming.

That's when he saw the two peacekeepers roughing their way through the crowd, heading straight towards his only family.

His hand fell, and he took a step forward, intent on beating the men who were hassiling his mother, and picking up his brother.

"Haymitch I will kill you myself if you don't stand still and smile! Wave!" Clara hissed.

"But Clara, my-"

"Reacting to it will only make it worse, Haymitch. SMILE!"

Haymitch only stared at Clara. Her plastered smile twitched at the corner, and then she turned her head.

Haymitch looked back towards the crowd, raising his hand to wave as they erupted in louder cheers, his mom and brother gone.

* * *

_Thanks for reading!_

_And that's it! Double thanks to those who tried to review! Please leave more reviews on your thoughts on the story, etc._


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